


To be Worthy

by lillianschild



Category: Robin Hood (BBC 2006)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-18
Updated: 2014-12-15
Packaged: 2017-12-29 18:50:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 20,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1008827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lillianschild/pseuds/lillianschild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Betrayed by his latest master and mocked by the cruel hand of destiny, Sir Guy of Gisborne  returns to Nottingham twenty years after his banishment determined to reclaim the life which should have been his.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Set in an alternate Series 1 where Guy has never met Vasey before his arrival in Nottingham, this fic will explore what impact an earlier acquaintance with Marian might have had on Guy's life and ultimate fate. 
> 
> Disclaimer: Tiger Aspect Productions and the BBC are free to claim whatever they own of this piece, except Guy's thoughts and my words which are ours to keep. lol.

_NOTTINGHAM CASTLE- 1192_  
  
Tall, long-limbed and broad-shouldered, the saturnine and handsome knight intrigued her. She'd never seen him before, but his powerful aura was felt beyond the shadows cast by the pillars of the hall of Nottingham Castle- her home as the daughter of the county Sheriff, Sir Edward of Knighton- and tapped a cord in her which had been dormant for twenty-one years. Nobody, not even her short-lived betrothed Robin, had ever stirred her this way.  
  
His aloofness belied the intensity of a pair of striking blue-grey eyes which she suspected were all- seeing behind those long sooty eyelashes. Wearing his shoulder-length coal black hair loose and dressed in black leather from head to toe, this avenging angel was the most sinfully attractive male she'd ever set eyes on. There was a decisive air of danger attached to his persona, even though she could tell he wasn't a great or powerful nobleman; his clothes were of good quality but had seen better days, and he was altogether alone, having no squire or page on attendance.  
  
Sitting at the high table, Marian quickly averted her eyes when she saw him glance her way and turned towards her father, Sir Edward of Knighton. Her dad's frailty was a constant source of anxiety during her waking hours, and his growing despondency kept her awake at night. He sat listless at the head of the table, staring off into space, both his trencher and glass untouched. It appeared not even hosting the spring tournament would rally him this time.  
  
“Once again you shine as the lady of Nottingham Castle,” Lord Harold of Winchester murmured close to her ear, sending a cold shudder down her spine.  
  
Her father's old friend and vanquished rival for her late mother's affections couldn't disguise the lustful gleam in his eyes or the palpable greed which transpired when he regarded everything of Edward's he coveted.  
  
“Edward must be very proud of his daughter,” he added, pressing an unwelcome kiss on her hand, his gaze trained on the swell of her creamy breasts.  
  
“I do my best to honour him,” she replied with a small smile, hating the courtly games destiny had her play and fighting the urge to slap him in the face for every lecherous look and innuendo she had had to endure since his arrival at the castle. She could feel the coppery taste in her mouth after biting her tongue, knowing how precarious her family's position had become and how dangerous alienating Winchester was.  
  
“As your husband I'd see Sir Edward's well cared for,” he continued, focusing on her mouth as she struggled to swallow down a morsel of venison and keep her nausea in check. Marian was still a maid, but running a household entailed having a closer relationship with the servants and most of them- especially the women- were outspoken. She'd heard enough disturbing tales about Winchester and his maidservants to know what kind of a husband he'd make. Sitting this close to him was enough to wish herself at Kirklees Abbey.  
  
Hiding her disgust she let her gaze wander past the trestle tables set up in the hall to where the silent knight was. Once again she wondered who he was. Judging by his lithe body and strong yet graceful limbs, he was a man used to riding and fighting. He was much older than the other knights in the room, who were closer to her in age, and should have either earned his own estate or found a position serving a lord. Marian couldn't help but envy his freedom; he was free to go wherever he pleased and do as he wished without the constraints imposed by duty and gender. If only she'd been born a man, she would tell Winchester to go to the devil and her father would have the heir her mother's early passing had denied him.  
  
“My lady, I've come today hoping to converse with you, but I'm afraid you're determined to ignore me,” said Winchester silkily, grabbing her right hand.  
  
“I'm trying to find Meg. The hall's really crowded today.”  
  
“She seems to be having a very good time,” he nodded towards the sixteen-year old who, wearing her finest clothes and her wavy red hair loose, observed the young knights, feigning her usual disinterest towards the opposite sex.  
  
“She's growing into a beautiful woman. Not as fetching as her cousin,” he added with a lewd glint in his eye,” but lovely just the same. I wager it won't take long for her hand to be requested in marriage by several eager suitors. It wouldn't do for the youngest girl in the household to get married first, don't you think? Your father seems to agree it's high time his eldest got her own home to run.”  
  
Marian shuddered at the thought of tying the knot with her mother's former suitor, repelled by the idea of those hands and lips touching her. Her skin crawled thinking of the indignities he might submit her to, given to a life of debauchery as he was. And yet, having been deserted by Robin in favour of King Richard's holy quest, she'd been left alone to protect her family. Marian loathed Winchester, but was aware of her responsibilities towards her frail and melancholy father and also Meg, who had become more of an adoptive sister than cousin the moment she came to live with them when her parents died. If Winchester was the only path open before her, Marian would do what was required of any dutiful daughter.  
  
Taking her goblet to her lips, she surreptitiously glanced across the room. The stranger was now leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, wearing an amused crooked smile as he observed a curvaceous maidservant joke and laugh with the young knights at the table nearby.  
  
Marian wondered what he'd be like with a woman. For all his aloofness, he struck her as a passionate man. Would that make him selfish and demanding as a lover? Or would he be attentive  and caring, possessive and yet thoughtful of giving as much as deriving pleasure from his partner?  
  
Her unmaidenly thoughts made her blush and, at that precise moment, the knight looked at the high table and their gazes locked. This time she trembled for an entirely different reason. She was rooted to the spot and, at the same time, wished she could run away from those eyes which seemed to be able to see into her lonely and hopeless heart.  
  
She tore her gaze from him, telling herself it wasn't possible for a complete stranger, a man she hadn't exchanged even the most basic pleasantries with, to understand what was going on under her carefully-studied façade.  
  
“My Lady...”  
  
“Excuse me, my lord, it's getting late and I've yet to make preparations for Lord Vasey's arrival,”  she told Winchester abruptly, getting to her feet.  
  
“I wish you'd honour me with your presence a little longer, but if you must go...” the earl replied, a clear note of annoyance in his voice.  
  
Guy watched the lady press a kiss on Sir Edward's cheek and then leave the hall in a hurry. There was no doubt in the knight's mind that Lady Marian loved her frail father as deeply as she hated the man who'd been sitting between them, a man whose place of honour suggested an imminent betrothal.  
  
Guy wondered if Winchester was really aware of  the lady's indomitable nature. The young woman didn't seem the kind to be easily swayed once she'd made up her mind. A character trait Guy had learnt to recognise, having experienced it first-hand with his own estranged little sister, Isabella. And yet that independence of thought which used to annoy him in his own flesh and blood, he found alluring in Lady Marian. Maybe Winchester had seen what he had and yearned for the challenge, just as he would; he certainly couldn't find fault in the other man's choice of partner. She took his breath away.  
  
The raucous crowd sitting a few steps away interrupted his musings. Not for the first time did he envy the younger knights' carefree attitude, that freedom to enjoy life to its full. Guy's journey had been a constant struggle ever since his parents' death in the fire and his forced exile in Normandy.   Fate had made of him a knight in shining armour in the eyes of his little sister Bella, a champion who could slay all dragons. He wondered what she'd think of him now; God knew he found it hard to see himself as anyone's knight. He'd done his best to make his dad proud, to live up to the Gisborne heritage; his horsemanship and the mastery of the sword had earned Guy a knighthood and a place in the ranks of the king's army just like his father had before him. He should have known better than to trust a Plantagenet though; Henry and Richard might have been enemies but both had betrayed the Gisborne loyalty in the end.  
  
Despite the life of hunger and destitution Guy and Isabella had been condemned to as children, he missed those days of old if only for the knowledge that there was someone who had faith in him and saw him as worthy. No, unlike the boisterous young men at the table, he wasn't in Nottingham merely for sport; he was there to face his own personal demons and win this tournament. His dreams of regaining the lands which were his by birthright had suffered a setback in the Holy Land, a fact which still irked him for its injustice. And yet, his fallout with the Lionheart could be considered serendipitous after all for if Guy hadn't landed in Southampton when he did, he wouldn't have learnt of this tournament in time to sign in. He'd stayed away far too long. Nottingham owed him and he was determined to collect.  
  
Once more the knight's eyes strayed to the high table. Winchester was still sitting next to Sir Edward and, judging by the hungry looks Lord Harold gave to the teenage red-haired Guy believed to be related to the frail Sheriff, the lecher wouldn't mind having both Knighton women warm his bed. Gisborne wondered if Lady Marian's father was actually aware of the snake he was harbouring in his nest. Judging by the sheriff's absent look and melancholy demeanour, he was oblivious of the world around him.  
  
Winchester was a vain man and the knight he sponsored at the tournament was good, but Guy was experienced and Stormbringer, having seen battle, was a far superior mount. Suddenly the idea of winning acquired an extra significance. Maybe he could be once again that chivalrous protector Ghislaine would have been proud of. Being worthy in the eyes of two pure ladies might be the reprieve his battered soul had been yearning for. Seeing Winchester defeated and humiliated even through a proxy would be a bonus.  
  
“More wine, sir knight?” asked a voluptuous maidservant, approaching Guy with a seductive sway of her hips.  
  
“I'd rather keep my wits sharp. As tempting as other things offered might be, I need to save my energy for the trials on the field,” he grinned, eying the ample bosom on display.  
  
“Pity. I could make it worth your while,” she replied with a lewd gleam in her eye.  
  
“I've no doubt you're going to make a young knight very happy tonight,” he smiled before deciding to pump her for information. “What can you tell me about the man sitting next to the earl of Knighton?”  
  
“Lord Winchester? His late wife left him the estate which borders Knighton and he’s been friends with the Sheriff since their youth. Our master owes him a great deal. His duties as a sheriff leave him very little time to see to his property and, as much as Lady Marian's loved by the populace, she isn't a man. Lord Winchester took on the stewardship of Knighton almost a decade ago and helped relieve the earl of the extra burden.”  
  
Not only did the disgusting lecher salivate after Marian of Knighton the woman, he coveted the fortune that he'd obtain by marrying her.  Despite being ambitious and having a lot more to gain than Winchester by choosing a rich and beautiful bride such as Lady Marian, Sir Guy would never impose his amorous attentions upon an unwilling woman. Gisborne wasn't a man above reproach, but his ambition hadn't yet smother his sense of honour and the respect for the opposite sex that Ghislaine had instilled in him as a young boy. There were other ways to secure himself a future and the stability necessary to even consider wooing a bride of rank with whom to raise a family and restore the proud lineage of his ancestors.  
   
“Ten years is a long time.”  
  
“Lord Harold's a very patient man when he sees something he wants.”  
  
“Is he?” he cocked an eyebrow.  
  
“He has to be. Ever since Robin of Locksley broke up their engagement to join King Richard's crusade, my lady's lived only for her father. So far she's managed to deflect Winchester's attentions, but... ”  
  
Huntingdon? It had to be. He knew of only one Robin of Locksley and the smug earl had played a fundamental role in both Guy's departure from and return to Nottingham.  
  
Lady Marian, the young woman who'd captured Guy's heart the minute he set foot in the castle, had been once betrothed to his enemy. It seemed fate was constantly out to mock the landless knight.  
  
“What's wrong with Sir Edward?” he asked the maidservant, hoping his face hadn't betrayed the impact her words had had on him.  
  
“Just grief. He's never been able to overcome Lady Kate's death. He loves his daughter dearly, but the fact that she resembles her dead mother more each passing day doesn't help.”  
  
Guy wondered if he'd ever be able to love so deeply and forever, to the point of being unable to live on without his chosen partner. His rare and inconsequential trysts had only helped scratch a natural itch, but no one so far had ever stirred him enough to envision having a life and raising a family together, no one until Lady Marian. The irony of fate wasn't lost on him. At thirty-five he was risking losing his heart for the first time to a woman he'd no right to love.  
  
“Hey, Gisborne! You've monopolised the wench long enough, and we all know you won't do anything about it.”  
  
“Yeah, come here, luv.  Don't waste your time with Sir Lackland,” shouted one of the youngest knights with a marked drunken slur accompanied by the sniggers of the other guests.  
  
Guy clenched his fists and glared at the men sitting around the table. It wasn't the first time he'd heard the nickname used in his presence, although they had never called him that in his face before. Cooling his temper was becoming a true test of endurance, but answering back or punching a few smug faces would only jeopardise his participation in the tournament and everything it entailed- from the money he could win to the chance to meet a prospective new employer.  
  


* * *

  
  
Outside the night air was cool. Away from the bragging youths, he surveyed the terrain where the tournament would take place the following morning. Although he trusted his horse in a way he hadn't managed to trust anyone since his childhood, he always took the precaution of studying the grounds to minimise the risk of injuries for both his and his mount's sake. Next came a visit to the stables and a careful inspection of the equipment in the early morning to make sure everything was as it should be; for all their code of honour knights were only human, and foul play in competitions wasn't unheard of.  
  
Having brushed Stormbringer and supplemented his meal with a bucket of oats, Guy locked its stall and, bidding his destrier goodnight, headed to the bailey. Let his haughty rivals drink and wench on the eve of the melee- he'd made that mistake once in his twenties and almost paid it with his life- Guy would make it an early night to get up refreshed and ready to collect his ransom.  
  
As he climbed up the stairs leading from the bailey, he spotted the saucy maidservant who'd given him the eye scanning the corridor, no doubt in search of someone. A sixth sense told him he was the prey, so he shrunk back into a shadowed alcove. It was on occasions such as these when he questioned whether his decision to change wardrobe had been wise. Black leather was supposed to provide him with a protective dangerous aura against potential enemies and carnal distractions, but for some reason it seemed not to be having the desired deterring effect on the opposite sex, quite the contrary in fact. It was baffling and, at times, made him feel awkward and out of his depth around the fair sex, especially amongst those who- had his situation been any different- he'd have considered his equals and therefore, marriage material. Although the maidservant wasn't such a girl, he wasn't in the mood for an inconsequential tryst with her either tonight or in the foreseeable future.  
  
There was only one woman who'd managed to stir his until-then anaesthetised heart, Lady Marian, the beautiful maiden whose angelic form had bewitched him and whose passionate soul he knew he'd no right to covet. He might never have a chance with Sir Edward's daughter. but the mere thought of a night of debauchery with the curvaceous servant under the same roof where Lady Marian would be sleeping made him feel even more unworthy. There was no use dreaming with the impossible; at least, until he could secure himself a future.  
  
Sliding the latch of the door behind him, Guy made use of his feline stealth and slipped away.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Betrayed by his latest master and mocked by the cruel hand of destiny, Sir Guy of Gisborne returns to Nottingham twenty years after his banishment determined to reclaim the life which should have been his.
> 
> Set in an alternate Series 1 where Guy has never met Vasey before his arrival in Nottingham, this fic will explore what impact an earlier acquaintance with Marian might have had on Guy's life and ultimate fate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tiger Aspect Productions and the BBC are free to claim whatever they own of this piece, except Guy's thoughts and my words which are ours to keep. lol.

 

Avoiding Winchester after dinner, Marian devoted herself to getting a chamber ready for Lord Vasey and, once she got word Sir Edward had left the hall, climbed up to her father's room to help the Lord of Knighton to bed.  
  
“I'm sorry to be such a burden to you both,” he mumbled as his daughter tucked him in. “Sometimes I think you'd be better off if I were no more.”  
  
“Please, don't say that, Father. The people of Nottingham need you. Meg and I need you, too. Things will look better in the morning. You'll see,” she comforted him, squeezing his hand. “Now... what are you going to wear for the tournament tomorrow? Maybe the tunic that we gave you for Christmas... It'd match perfectly with the cloak King Richard sent you as a present for your services to the Crown.”  
  
“You pick what you think best, dear.”  
  
It was hard to keep a cheerful countenance when she saw her dad so listless. There was so little left of the invincible man who used to love carrying her on his shoulders as a girl and dote on her as if he'd have the male heir he'd been denied. Long before her first love, he'd been the only man in her universe, the one who'd taught her how to fight, ride and knock an arrow despite her mother's constant nagging. It was so heartbreaking seeing him deteriorate in front of her eyes; not even being virtually jilted at the altar by Robin, whom everybody'd expected her to end up with since her childhood, had hurt so much.  
  
“Father, I know you'd rather stay in your quarters tomorrow... but you're aware that Prince John has eyes and ears everywhere. He's counting on any sign of weakness from his brother's allies to realise his ambitions. Don't let him have his way. The last thing that Nottingham needs is for one of his cronies to take your place. You know as well as I do he has no love for King Richard, and I'm afraid we three won't be the only ones to pay the consequences; it's the populace who always does.”  
  
“My lovely and wilful daughter... you make me so proud. Promise me you'll be careful, Marian...”  
  
“Father...”  
  
“God only knows when the king'll come home, and I'm not sure I'll live long enough to protect you if John manages to get the support he needs to seize the throne. Sometimes I wish I'd paid heed to your mother's warnings. You'd be married by now and I'd be able to die in peace knowing you were safe.”  
  
“I can take care of myself and Meg. I don't need.....”  
  
“Stubborn like my Kate,” he chuckled.”That foolish boy was never the one. I knew from the very first day I clasped eyes on him he was too full of himself to ever put his hunger for praise and glory  aside for any woman. As much as it hurt to see you suffer back then, I'm glad you were spared the bitterness of a marriage to a man who'd have never put you first. I wish for you what I had with your mother...”  
  
Marian felt her eyes well up with tears. She'd once had that very dream, but she loved her father too much to tell him he'd made its realisation impossible. And, unless a miracle came her way, duty was the only path open before her. Unbearable as the thought was, she'd be Lady Winchester before the summer was out.

* * *

  
  
Having ascertained her father was resting safely in the arms of Morpheus, Marian pressed a soft kiss on his forehead and slipped out of his chamber.  
  
The muffled sounds of laughter told her she should stay away from the hall for there were still those who hadn't retired to bed, and Winchester might be amongst them. Making her way along a side corridor she walked in the direction of the stables to see to her favourite mare, which was still heavy with its unborn offspring.  
  
It had been a trying day in more ways than one, and she longed for the quietude of her room, where she could rest her weary bones and wake up refreshed to face the busy hours ahead. As she crossed the rose garden, which had been Lady Kate's pride and joy, she removed the bejewelled pin that held her hair up. Massaging her scalp and neck to relieve the kinks which had built up as a result of her stressful day she let her auburn tresses tumble down.  
  
“Milady?”  
  
She blanched at the unexpected sound of a deep chocolatey voice, wondering who had witnessed her unladylike behaviour. Whoever it was would get a surprise if he so much as made a move  mistaking her for one of those young women of noble blood who, either single or married, offered themselves for free in the shadows while pretending to be pious in the light.  
  
“Milady, I don't wish to cause you any harm,” said the male voice with a distinctly northern accent.  
  
“If you have nothing to hide, then step forward and let me see your face,” she commanded with a tone of confidence which belied the confusing flutter in her chest. There was something about that voice that made her skin tingle and did odd things to her stomach. She'd experienced that very same  electrifying spark earlier that night, and her heart knew even before he materialised in front of her that the man in the shadows was the handsome stranger from the hall.  
  
“Excuse my presumptuousness, milady. I only wanted to thank you for a warm meal and your generous hospitality,” he replied, coming closer with a gracefulness that reminded her of the stealth shown by felines when circling a prey.  
  
Looking at him from across a room had stirred her in some unfathomable way, but standing in the moonlight just an armful away from the mysterious knight with raven hair and piercing blue-grey eyes robbed her of every sensible thought. His face was all angles and his nose would have been considered disproportionately large in any other man, and yet she'd never met any specimen of the opposite sex in her twenty-one years who looked more devastatingly handsome or more mesmerizing  even in stillness.  
  
Marian knew she had to say something fast before being caught staring like a besotted fool. She was the lady of the castle and as such was expected to show decorum and impeccable manners.  
  
“You're one of the Sheriff's guests for the length of the tournament, I did no more than what's expected of me as chatelaine.”  
  
“Be that as it may, I'm grateful for your solicitousness. I've been around a while and have learnt never to take a thoughtful gesture for granted. I've grown used to sleeping under the stars and partaking of a simple meal with my mount..... It comes with the territory.”  
  
“Well, I'm glad then you're sleeping in a proper bed tonight with a fire to keep you warm.”  
  
He smiled and a sudden warmth, unfamiliar and yet strangely welcome, suffused her.  
  
Guy thought Sir Edward's only daughter was even lovelier illuminated by the moonlight. The alabaster of her skin turned a delightful red when he made his presence known, driven from the dark refuge of the shadows by her siren call. The temptation to be closer to her orbit, enveloped in the delicate chamomile-scented aura of her feminine form was too hard to resist.  
  
He knew it wasn't wise, that he was breaking several basic propriety rules and that he might be compromising her virtue and good name by addressing her a few simple words when she was unchaperoned, but the very fact nobody was there to witness the exchange had emboldened him. Although he might be denied the blessing of the love of a woman such as her, he would at least treasure the memory of a chaste encounter with only the moonlight for company.  
  
As intoxicating as being in the close proximity of the mysterious knight was, Marian knew she wasn't supposed to be alone with him. She wondered if God had decided to put temptation on her way to test her, aware as He must be of her tendency to rebel against the rules in her eagerness to  assert the independence men had denied her sex.    
  
“Please, wait” he beseeched her. “I'm trying to avoid someone... a woman who waited on the young knights' table tonight. I don't know her name, but she seems to be persistent,” he said with a hint of awkwardness in his demeanour that she found confusing in a man whose devastatingly handsome presence was the epitome of dangerous masculinity.  
  
A sudden twinge of envy seized her and, forgetting she was meant to be the demure Sheriff of Nottingham's daughter, she blurted out: “Won't she be heartbroken to discover you're hiding from her?”  
  
“I don't think so. There are younger and more accommodating fish in the pond.”  
  
She frowned.  “You speak of yourself as if you were too old.”  
  
“Age is more than the sum total of one's years. I think you know that better than anyone, Lady Marian.”  
  
She did. There were days when she felt a lot older than her twenty-first springs.  
  
She wondered what he'd have done if she were the one pursuing him. Would he have hidden as well? Once again a peculiar warmth coursed through her body as if his strong arms were holding her and his long fingers were brushing her skin and raising goose pimples on their journey… . Her lips tingled and parted in anticipation of his passionate though imaginary kiss….  
  
What was it about this man that made her forget who she was and feel things without even touching her she'd never experienced in the arms of her former betrothed?  
  
There was a speculative gleam in his eyes that heightened the red in her cheeks. Could it be he'd recognised the telltale signs of her body showing how he was affecting her? She was a lady and a maid; she should be angry, not…curious.  
  
The voice of her conscience told her to leave.  
  
“Good evening, Sir…?”  
  
“Sir Guy of Gisborne.”  
  
“Good luck tomorrow, Sir Guy.” she wished him, turning to leave.  
  
“Haven't you ever heard my name?”  
  
“Should I have?” she asked, her curiosity revived.  
  
“If you haven't, you will soon enough. Although I'm afraid it won't be the whole truth.” he replied, an indefinable emotion clouding his eyes.  
  
“I consider myself a good judge of character and not given to sentence any man without first-hand proof of his guilt. Let him who is without sin cast the first stone. Isn't that what Our Lord's taught us?”  
  
His deep voice softened. “Not everyone has such a charitable heart as yours, milady.”  
  
Marian had always loved riddles and her curiosity was certainly piqued. But there was more than that; she felt as if she'd been suddenly awoken from a lethargic spell, as if she were really alive for the first time.  
  
Who was this man, this knight whose proud presence made her forget the world didn't regard their stations as equal? Sir Guy of Gisborne was unquestionably more attractive to her than Winchester, but  his good looks weren't proof of his being a better person. Perhaps he was just better at pretending.  
  
Robin used to say her sympathetic heart would be her doom one day. “We're all sinners, Sir Guy. Not even I am worthy of being put on a pedestal. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have many things to see to. ”  
  
“Of course,” he inclined his head. “It must be a heavy burden for one so young.”  
  
The tone of concern in his voice threatened to weaken her resolve, but the suspicion that he might have the same designs as Winchester strengthened her. “We all have burdens to bear. God tests us all.”  
  
“In more ways than one,” he agreed, suggesting he'd experienced the heavy burden of duty and responsibility in the flesh. Maybe they weren't so different after all.  
  
“Have you been tested?”  
  
Guy looked at the pure white of a single rose in the garden, surrounded by the deep crimson of its thorny counterparts, and felt a tightening in his chest. He wished he could open up, share with her the life-long burden which had threatened to crush him at times. But his time of trial was far from over, and he had no right to taint a soul of which she wished he could be deserving.    
  
The fleeting pain she saw reflected in his countenance roused her sympathy and, although she knew instinctively he wouldn't accept her pity, she couldn't help but voice her feelings.“I'm sorry....” she murmured, unable to rid herself of that deep sense of connection she'd experienced from the very first moment.  
  
“Good night, my lady,” he bid her, taking her hand in his and brushing his warm lips softly over the rise of her knuckles.  
  
An electric current ran up her arm and warmth radiated to her breast, her face and that hidden uncharted place, which had unexpectedly become more than the living proof of her maidenly condition.  
  
The mere feather-like touch of his lips had left her overwhelmed, warm all over and strangely dissatisfied. She wondered what it'd feel like to be actually kissed by those lips on the mouth... or to have them trace her feminine curves.  
  
The unmaidenly thought, brought on by the blue-grey-eyed stranger with a shy smile, a virile body and a deep, chocolatey voice, turned Marian into a mass of confusion. Never before had risk and  danger looked more appealing nor had she ever felt more envious of that maidservant whose station in life didn't shackle her with the chains of duty and honour.  
  
At that moment she feared Sir Guy more than she'd ever feared Lord Winchester. And so she turned and fled.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Betrayed by his latest master and mocked by the cruel hand of destiny, Sir Guy of Gisborne returns to Nottingham twenty years after his banishment determined to reclaim the life which should have been his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set in an alternate Series 1 where Guy has never met Vasey before his arrival in Nottingham, this fic will explore what impact an earlier acquaintance with Marian might have had on Guy's life and ultimate fate.
> 
> Disclaimer: Tiger Aspect Productions and the BBC are free to claim whatever they own of this piece, except Guy's thoughts and my words which are ours to keep. lol.

 

“Well?”  
  
“His name’s Guy,” Allan A Dale informed Winchester.  
  
“Guy?” the older man echoed.  
  
“Sir Guy of Gisborne. His father was a northener and a knight in King Henry's army, and his mother was a Norman.”  
  
“Anything else?”  
  
“Aye, my lord. Sir Guy was in the Holy Land with King Richard.”  
  
“Oh, one of those! And how come he's here and not fighting the infidel? ”  
  
“It seems he fell from grace in the eyes of the King, who used to hold him in very good regard.”  
  
“So he was cast out of his retinue and sent back to England? Did you find out anything about the nature of the quarrel?”  
  
“Apparently, he questioned some of Richard's orders and... he was involved in a fight with another knight, one of the King's favourites, the Earl of Huntingdon.”  
  
“He dared question good old Richard and was in a row with Lady Marian's old fiance, you said? Interesting. It's a miracle he's still got his head attached to his shoulders.”  
  
“There's more, my lord. Gisborne's no more. There's a younger sister, but when their parents died the late King Henry gave the lands of Gisborne to the Earl of Huntingdon.”  
  
“Ah. Nothing like a long-standing grudge to forget one's knightly oaths,” he smiled wolfishly. “Disgraced and landless. So that's why he seemed to be so interested in me tonight. No doubt he's counting on capturing the richest man's representative on the field tomorrow. How are things progressing with young Meg?”  
  
“Slow, but I haven't lost my faith yet.”  
  
“Good. Good. A victory in the squires’ melee might help you.”  
  
Winchester too needed his knight to win. Hopefully, a victory in the tournament would improve things with Marian. “How good is Sir Guy on the field?”  
  
“Outstanding.”  
  
“Do you mean he's never lost?”  
  
“Mm... rarely, my lord.”  
  
Winchester's man was the best in the shire and one he'd considered unbeatable until then. Losing wasn't an option after coming this far in the game.  
  
“My lord?” asked Allan bringing his master out of his reverie.  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“You told me to keep an eye on Lady Marian... Well, I shadowed her tonight. After she left the hall, she busied herself with the arrangements for Lord Vasey's arrival, and then she went to Sir Edward’s chamber.”  
  
“Nothing out of the ordinary.”  
  
“No... but she didn't retire immediately. She had a walk in the garden instead... and she had company.”  
  
Winchester slammed the goblet whose contents he'd been about to drink, making the young squire jump. “Who else was in the garden?”  
  
“Sir Guy, my lord.”  
  
“Are you sure it was him you saw?”  
  
“He walked past me, and you've got to admit he cuts an unforgettable figure,” smiled the Squire ruefully.  
  
“You'd better wipe that smile off your face, Allan. Don't you forget I'm not only the one who can make you but crush you as well. Tell me he didn't see you.”  
  
“Of course, he didn't. You charged me with the task because of my stealth, right?”  
  
Lady Kate of Knighton's one-time-suitor was old enough to know women were not to be trusted around men such as Guy of Gisborne. Although the outcast northener might have no real title and not even a penny in his coffers, he had good looks, youth and virility; Winchester had no doubt the younger man had seduced a good number of women in his lifetime. Things had been going so smoothly for Winchester since Huntingdon's desertion; he hadn't counted on a rival for Marian's hand and dowry, particularly not one he suspected had the necessary means and skills to fight this battle and win it.    
  
If this dishonoured nobody wanted Marian, he was as good as dead. Lord Winchester hadn't spent so many years planning and scheming to marry his former fiance's daughter just to see his dreams crushed by an impoverished knight. He'd been extremely patient with Marian and more than once had thought he should have bedded her and leave her no choice but to become Lady Winchester, and now no upstart was going to steal from him the privilege of showing the Lady who was master.  
  
“The encounter was brief, my lord. And Lady Marian would never do anything unseemly.”  
  
“Yes, Lady Marian is above reproach,” stated Winchester, his emotions once more under control.“The Northerner, however, is a different matter altogether, which means someone must show him his place.”

 

* * *

  
  
“Why is it that men get to have all the fun while we're expected to sit and fiddle with our fingers or work on our embroidery?” Meg mumbled with a pout.  
  
Marian struggled to hide the smile that threatened to show on her face. She remembered vocing that very same complaint hundreds of times growing up, but now she was an adult and, as such, was expected to set an example for her younger cousin.  
  
“You mean you envy their thirst for blood be it at war or in the tournament field?”  
  
“You know me better than that, Marian. Still, I don't understand that foolish rule that says ladies of rank aren't allowed to even watch a melee.”  
  
“As ladies of rank we enjoy certain privileges, but we also have a duty to behave as such, Meg.”  
  
Marian wondered if she wouldn't be struck by lightning, considering how hypocritical it was to ask that of Meg after the meeting with the knight in the garden the previous night.  
  
She shouldn't have allowed their encounter to last so long. It had been madness to let herself be seduced by his good looks and his velvety baritone, just as it would be foolish to spend another sleepless night thinking what it'd feel like to lie in his arms and be kissed the way she imagined a man like him would kiss.     
  
“Don't you sometimes get bored of being a lady?” sighed Meg.“Even maidservants seem to lead more interesting lives than ours.”  
  
“It isn't all gold that glitters, Meg. I think neither of us would be equipped to survive the life of a servant.”  
  
“You mean no man has been born yet that can tame us or force us into subservience,” she chuckled.”Despite the lady façade, I know the heart of a rebel beats in your chest too, Marian.”  
  
Her younger cousin knew her well. Marian had always relished her independence and loved her father even more for everything he'd taught her. Only Robin and her family were aware of what an expert in weapons and horses she was and how fearsome a warrior she could be, despite her feminine condition and her delicate ladylike persona. She still rode to the heart of Sherwood Forest when she could escape her daily chores as chatelaine and trained on a weekly basis. It brought a pang to her chest to think of how things would change once she entered the shackles of marriage to Lord Winchester. Defying her husband and showing him who she really was behind her carefully-constructed façade would not only bring trouble on her but also on those she loved and intented to protect by marrying the hateful man in the first place.  
  
Knowing these might be her last weeks of real freedom, Marian decided to test its boundaries as far as common sense and propriety allowed.  
  
“I must supervise my latest instructions to get Lord Vasey's chamber ready have been carried out. Would you like to accompany me?“  
  
“Boring,” mumbled the younger cousin.  
  
“Nobody would find fault in our lingering there for a little while. You know... the chamber's got a nice view of the field... We might see the first charge... before all that senseless bashing begins,” smiled Marian conspiratorially.  
  
“Oh, you're the best!” exclaimed the rosy-cheeked sixteen-year-old hugging her. “I promise I'll be on my best behaviour. I could even give you and Tuck a hand tending the wounded.”  
  
“Where has this sudden interest in being around the opposite sex sprung from? Wasn't you who used to say if you had your way men would disappear in a puff of smoke, and the world would be a happier place?"  
  
“Oh, well, they're a necessary evil, I suppose. And some of them aren't that bad to look at. Even us ladies are allowed to feast our eyes provided we do it discreetly. There's no crime in that, is there? And it's not as if I'd give my heart away by looking from a distance; I have no intention of getting married. Thank you very much. Besides, how would it look if I were the first Lady of Knighton to enter the marriage institution?”  
  
“Well, I'm not looking for a husband either. I've already got my hands full as it is,” finished Marian, slamming shut the drawer she'd been rifling through to get some old linen that could be used for bandages.  
  
No, she wasn't looking for a husband, but she was virtualy betrothed. And yet her treacherous body seemed not to accept the fact for even now it reacted to the sinfully passionate thoughts Sir Guy had roused in her. It was painful enough to have to marry a man she loathed; having to lie in a cold and potentially abusive bed suspecting now things might feel so different was unbearable.

* * *

  
  
“Why all the fuss, Marian? Who is this Lord Vasey that deserves so much pomp and circumstance?”  
  
“His late brother, Lord Geoffrey, was Father's best friend. He died in the Holy Land not so long ago and left his title and lands to his younger sibling, Peter, the present Lord. Although we've never laid eyes on Lord Peter before, we owe it to his brother's memory and his station to give him a proper welcome,” explained Marian, unlocking the door of the room she'd spent so many hours setting up.  
  
“Oh, this is great!” Meg exclaimed, rushing to the loophole that overlooked the tournament field.  
  
Marian joined her cousin and observed the two groups of mounted knights facing each other across the field. Her father, who would have chatted convivially with the participants in the past, sat to the side in his best attire, a forlorn figure that broke her already bleeding heart.  
  
Her gaze was drawn like a magnet to the one man who wasn't donning a silver armour. Wearing black from head to toe, Sir Guy of Gisborne was seated on a magnificent destrier of the same colour.  
  
Master and beast looked like an indivisible unit and were impressive in their eerie stillness. He stood alone and aloof, observing the field and his opponents from his saddle to mark out his prey with a glance that she imagined penetrating beneath his helmet.  
  
Remembering the emotions a look from those striking blue-grey eyes had provoked in her the previous night, Marian unconsciously rubbed the knuckles on which she was still able to feel the imprint of his warm lips.  
  
“There’s Lord Winchester and Allan. Allan is going to participate in the squires’ melee tomorrow.” Meg tossed her strawberry hair. “He asked to wear one of my scarves, but I refused.”  
  
“Why?” asked Marian absently.  
  
“Really, Marian, if I didn't know you better, I'd think you were moonstruck. He's chasing after every skirt in the shire, servants and _ladies_ alike, that's why.Winchester's wearing your scarf, I suppose?”  
  
“No... He isn't taking part this time. His man is. Taking part, I mean. Not wearing my scarf,” she muttered, thanking the Lord for that temporary reprieve.  
  
Looking once again at the black knight who occupied her thoughts almost permanently, she wondered what her answer would have been if he'd been the one to request to wear her scarf.  
  
If only she were not restrained by duty.....  
  
She blushed ashamed of her fleeting though ungrateful thought. She loved her father... and her cousin. They were all she had left. Her sacrifice was a small price to pay.  
  
She'd tell Meg to go ahead of her and take the extra bandages to Tuck. She'd make a stop at the chapel, pray for forgiveness and light a candle to the Virgin Mary, begging for her guidance and strength. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Betrayed by his latest master and mocked by the cruel hand of destiny, Sir Guy of Gisborne returns to Nottingham twenty years after his banishment determined to reclaim the life which should have been his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Set in an alternate Series 1 where Guy has never met Vasey before his arrival in Nottingham, this fic will explore what impact an earlier acquaintance with Marian might have had on Guy's life and ultimate fate. 
> 
> Disclaimer: Tiger Aspect Productions and the BBC are free to claim whatever they own of this piece, except Guy's thoughts and my words which are ours to keep.

 

Mounted on his destrier, Guy scanned the men on the opposite side of the field and made a quick assessment of the contenders as he waited patiently for the charge to begin. Stormbringer, used to the battlefield like his master, remained quiet as well; only the occasional flicking of the animal's ears revealed its urge to see action again.  
  
Then Gisborne trained his eyes on Sir Edward, waiting for the signal to begin. Most of the knights were young and eager and Guy had learnt from experience how easy it was to fall prey to them if one hesitated even a millisecond when the lord's arm was lowered.  
  
The Sheriff, dressed impeccably though not ostentatiously, was sitting at the side of the field. However, just like the previous night, he seemed to be absent in every way but bodily.  
  
Guy remembered his father and how much his parents had loved each other. Roger of Gisborne would have mourned the loss of Ghislaine just as deeply as Sir Edward was mourning his wife. Unlike the Lord of Knighton, though, fate had spared the head of the Gisborne family, and the reaper had taken both husband and wife during the fire, leaving their defenceless children to cry over them.  
  
The memory was still painful, an open wound that hadn't healed, and the feeling of guilt haunted Guy even now. He knew better than to let old baggage and sad recollections unsettle him the day of the tournament when any distraction could mean not just defeat but many a time death. It was better to think pleasant thoughts; there had been so few of those lately... until Lady Marian.  
  
Her graceful beauty and the passionate nature he'd spied hidden behind the mask she was being forced to wear had captured his heart in the hall. She'd brought his anaesthetised senses back to life, stirred emotions in him he'd believed long dead after years of hardship and loss, making every intimate encounter in his life pale when compared to the yearning brought about by the mere sight of her unbound hair or the brush of his lips against her knuckles.  
  
Last night had been the realisation of a dream, a folly he wouldn't dare to repeat. No matter the warm and unexpected feelings she'd awoken in him, he should have never approached her, least of all touch her, aware as he had been of her unchaperoned state. He ought not to have lingered in her company for so long, beguiled by her magnetic aura.  
  
It was foolish to delude himself; once she learnt about his past, whatever attraction she might have felt towards him last night would be crushed. He'd considered telling her he was no stranger to Nottingham, that he'd been born and raised here, that had it not been for the cruel hand of fate and  Nottingham's complicity, he'd now be sitting at the Council of Nobles and free to woo her away from Winchester's clutches. Sharing his history and his old and strained relationship with Huntingdon might have earned her sympathy, but he still had too much self-respect to welcome anybody's compassion or pity. As things stood, nothing serious could ever happen between them. Therefore, there was no point in opening up and revealing his conflictive rapport both with the King and her late betrothed, not even when he knew himself to have been the unjustly injured party both as a child and as a grown-up.  
  
Hopeless as his yearning was, his mind kept conjuring images of Lady Marian in his arms; her pure heart awoken to blossoming passion by his tender kisses and gentle caresses. These thoughts did nothing but fire his libido and his fidgeting in the saddle communicated his own anxiety to Stormbringer, which started to prance. Gripping the reins and tightening his knees he brought the animal under control, trying to stay focused on practical matters- winning the melée.  
  
The earl of Knighton finally gave the signal and Guy dug his heels into Stormbringer. His horse  broke into a gallop ahead of the other knights on his side, and in an instant all the destriers leapt forward crossing the space between both sides. Guy's sharp eye located Winchester's man and urged his destrier in that direction, aiming his lance straight at the man's shield, intent on dismounting him.  
  
It all happened so quickly. One moment he was charging against Winchester's man and the next he lay sprawled on the ground in agony, his left arm feeling as if it'd been torn off at his shoulder. Stormbringer stood a few paces away seeming as confused as his master, sniffing at the lance broken in half at his feet.  
  
The fighting continued around Guy as he struggled against the nausea of pain and commanded his body to move to safety away from the trampling hooves. He was an easy prey and it didn't take long for Winchester's knight to bring Gisborne back to his knees by aiming his sword at Guy's injured arm, which had been left unprotected when it could no longer hold the weight of the heavy shield.  
  
“You're out of your league, Northerner,” Winchester's man taunted him.  
  
“I can still take you with one arm,” glared Guy as he determinedly got back to his feet despite the excruciating pain.  
  
“Get off the field while you still can, Gisborne. I wouldn't like to ruin your pretty body for the ladies. If you hurry up, you can catch the next stretcher for the vanquished on your way out of the field,” replied the earl's man smugly, turning his destrier back to the melée.  
  
  
Impotence and rage battled in Gisborne's chest and threatened to spill over. It was a feeling Guy was no stranger to, an emotion that many a time had pushed him to the edge and made him come face-to-face with the seed of darkness he knew he carried inside, a restrained violence that could destroy everything and everyone around him and doom him forever. It was a powerful force which had cost him dearly in the past, and he'd be a fool to risk it all by letting emotions rule him once again.  
  
Swallowing the bitter pill of humiliation, he made a strategic retreat with his head held high, avoiding the Greyfriar and his assistants by walking in the opposite direction. There was no way on this earth he'd leave the field on a stretcher when he had two feet that could carry him to the tent where his injuries would be treated.    


* * *

  
  
Lady Marian busied herself around the trestle table, arranging the medicines, bandages and basins that Tuck would need to see to his patients. She'd lost count of how long she'd spent on the task, aligning things which needn't be moved anymore and fussing about the tiniest detail; she simply had to do something or go crazy as the minutes went by and there was no news of Sir Guy.  
  
“He'd have been brought here already if his injury were serious,” Meg suggested, sensing Marian's disquiet.  
  
She wanted to be as positive as her sixteen-year-old cousin, but she'd seen the heavy collision and his tumble from the destrier; it hadn't appeared like a minor injury to her when they'd both witnessed the clash from their vantage point in the tower. She'd been too overcome by anxiety to stay behind and wait to see Sir Guy stir; she'd rushed downstairs followed closely by Meg, praying for him to be alive.  
  
“I told you he wasn't dead!” shouted the younger cousin with a large smile the minute the flap at the entrance to the tent moved to reveal Sir Guy of Gisborne in his traditional black garb.  
  
“I'm a hard nut to crack,” he replied with a lopsided grin.  
  
“Your arm!” exclaimed Lady Marian, noticing the way he was holding his left arm against his body.  
  
“Is it broken?” frowned Meg.  
  
“I think the problem's my shoulder,” he said quietly when Marian took a step forward in his direction.  
  
“I'll go and fetch Tuck,” offered Meg, hurrying out of the tent.  
   
Marian made a move to stop her, but it was already too late. She was once again alone with the first man who'd ever robbed her of sleep with a brush of his lips against her knuckles and made her body burn either with one look or his mere proximity. Common sense and the rules of propriety told her she should step out of the tent and wait for Tuck to arrive, and yet she remained rooted to the spot.  
  
“Is this man Tuck a black Greyfriar by any chance?”  
  
“Yes, he's our physician. Have you met him?”  
  
“He was hanging around the field with two assistants and a stretcher,” he explained with a grimace.  
  
“You should have waited for them.”  
  
“I'm sure there are others more seriously hurt than I. I'm not an invalid.”  
  
“I didn't suggest you were but still... “  
  
“My injury can wait. I'm not bleeding to death,” he said gruffly. “Forgive me... my lady.”  
  
“It's all right. It's the pain speaking,” she smiled, trying to cover up how awkward she felt standing so close to him.  
  
Marian told herself she should get over it and be as professional as the situation allowed. She was there to nurse the injured and Sir Guy was just that, a patient in need of medical attention.  
  
“Have you tried moving your left arm away from your body?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Could you do it now? Gently,” she suggested, wondering if he was able to hear the drumming of her heart now that they were a mere armful away.  
  
He made the attempt but blanched, overcome by a bout of agonizing pain.  
  
“Don't strain it. I'd better examine it more closely. Would you mind disrobing?”she stopped him, hoping the warmth she was feeling all over wasn't showing in her cheeks.  
  
“I'm afraid I won't be able to do it on my own,” he replied after a slight pause, an indefinable emotion flaring in his breathtaking blue-grey eyes, which found an echo in her.”I'll wait for the Friar, my lady.”  
  
“Since Meg hasn't come back yet I have a feeling Tuck has got his hands full at the moment. You're clearly in pain; I can assist you if you don't mind.”  
  
“I can wait,” he insisted, gritting his teeth.  
  
“Are you always this stubborn? You look as if you're about faint,” she admonished him. “Let me have a look now,” she added with a firm voice, which belied the trembling in her fingers as she unbuckled his sword belt.  
  
Even through the layers of clothing she could tell the strength of his thighs after years on horseback as well as the flat belly and shapely muscles resulting from heavy training and warfare. It took an incredible measure of willpower to distance herself from the overwhelming masculinity in front of her eyes.  
  
“I owe you an apology. I think I was rather presumptuous last night and didn't behave in the way of a gentleman.”  
  
“There was no harm done.”  
  
“Still...”  
  
“I accept your apology, Sir Guy,” she cut him off, keeping focused on the task at hand to avoid meeting his piercing eyes. “Now I need to take your surcoat and gambeson...  and I'm afraid you're a bit too tall.”  
  
His response was to kneel down in front of her.  
  
“Tell me if I'm hurting you,” she said quietly, easing the items of clothing over his arms and shoulders one by one and trying to touch him as little as possible.  
  
She'd been so naïve believing she'd be able to see him as just another wounded knight to nurse. Her determination came tumbling down the moment she removed his gambeson and his upper body was revealed in all its glory. As worrying as the sight of his swollen and purplish left shoulder was, she welcomed it since it helped shift her focus of attention away from Gisbone's naked chest and shapely biceps.  
  
Guy clenched his teeth and bit back a French expletive, overcome by pain and the bittersweet experience of having Lady Marian touch his bare skin for the first time. Although the fair maid wasn't the only woman who'd ever seen him in a state of undress, none had ever affected him this much. In fact, the obvious arousing effect the sight of his nakedness had had on her made his resolution to curve his lust and remember the unconquerable social gap between them even harder.  
  
“I can't feel any broken bones,” she said after a while. “Do you think you can close your hand in a fist?” she added, taking a step back.  
  
Still feeling the soothing ghost of her touch on his skin, Guy fought the bout of pain which seized him every time he tried to move and followed her request.  
  
“Well, it seems you were right. Nothing's broken. The bone's been pulled from the socket in your shoulder. We need to put it back,” she explained, walking towards the trestle table to look for a potion to numb the pain. “Drink this.”    
  
“Poppies?” he asked, smelling the preparation.  
  
“Yes, it's going to make my work easier.”  
  
“You know how to do this?”  
  
“You sound surprised. Unlike many representatives of the fair sex, I'm not squeamish. I'm hopeless at embroidery, so I pestered Tuck until he taught me a few things that could come in handy,” she smiled, taking the empty goblet from his hand.  
  
“I knew the moment I saw you, you were anything but the usual damsel in distress. All right. I trust you. Do it.”  
  
“Let's wait a little bit for the potion to work.”  
  
“No, I'll be fine.”  
  
“Sir Guy...”  
  
“My lady,” he cut her off resolutely.  
  
“Men,” grumbled Marian, taking hold of his left arm and pulling.  
  
Exhaling the breath he'd been holding, he unclenched his teeth and opened his mesmerising blue-grey eyes to meet Marian's concerned gaze.  
  
“Thank you, my lady,” he said quietly, staring into her deep blue orbs with an open yearning that went beyond the physical before clouding his sudden show of vulnerability by lowering his sooty eyelashes and reaching out for his clothes.    
  
“Sir Guy...” she began, unsure of what to say next, only to be interrupted by Meg and Tuck's return.  
  
Her emotions being in a turmoil, Marian thanked the Virgin for their timely arrival.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Betrayed by his latest master and mocked by the cruel hand of destiny, Sir Guy of Gisborne returns to Nottingham twenty years after his banishment determined to reclaim the life which should have been his.
> 
> Set in an alternate Series 1 where Guy has never met Vasey before his arrival in Nottingham, this fic will explore what impact an earlier acquaintance with Marian might have had on Guy's life and ultimate fate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Tiger Aspect Productions and the BBC are free to claim whatever they own of this piece, except Guy's thoughts and my words which are ours to keep. lol.

“I see you're one of those who'd rather suffer stoically than accept he's a mere mortal,” snapped Friar Tuck, approaching Sir Guy.  
  
“I didn't think my injury was so grave as to demand being carried in a stretcher,” replied the knight as the monk examined his shoulder and checked his grip.  
  
Lady Marian didn't believe for a moment that had been the real reason. Gisborne was just too proud a man to leave the field any other way but on his feet.  
  
“I mixed him a draft to ease the pain before putting the shoulder back,” she told Tuck, focusing on the friar's large crucifix to keep her eyes from straying to the knight's half-naked body.  
  
“You've done a great job, My Lady,” smiled the black man. “Has your shoulder ever popped before?”  
  
“Once,” replied Sir Guy, feeling somewhat nauseous.  
  
“You know what should be done then. We must wrap it in order to immobilise it for a few days. If you hastened the treatment, you'd end up either weakening the joint or wearing it altogether. You'd live in constant pain.”  
  
“I'm a warrior. I can't afford losing the use of one arm. I'll do as you say.”  
  
“Good, good. My Lady, would you mind giving me a hand with these?”  
  
“Certainly,” smiled Marian, taking the bandages from the religious man's hands.  
  
“Please, lie back, Sir Guy,” he instructed the queasy knight. “Let the potion work its magic while we prepare the wrappings. Lady Marian, here, use this salve on the bandages. It'll help reduce the swelling and keep the pain under control. You've become quite a legend in the tournament circuit, Sir Guy.”  
  
“Is that so?” murmured the patient with a smug smile.  
  
“You've got a beautiful destrier.”  
  
“Have you had it long?” intervened Marian, who'd also admired his mount the night before while checking on her pregnant mare.  
  
“Two years.”  
  
“I've only seen the like in the Holy Land. Saracen war horses have a very distinct quality,” added Tuck, spreading salve on another bandage.  
  
“You've got a keen eye. Stormbringer was a present from a caliph,” explained Guy with a grimace as he tried to find a more comfortable position on the bed.  
  
“An infidel?” asked Meg overcome by curiosity.  
  
“It's funny that such a term could be used to refer both to Christians and Muslims, isn't it? Jehovah, God, Allah... Aren't they different names to worship the same Supreme Being who created us all?”  replied Tuck soberly.  
  
“A man of the cloth.Aren't you afraid of being excommunicated or charged with treason for voicing your opinions?”    
  
“No more than a knight who's pledged to defend the cross.You were on crusade with King Richard, weren't you, Sir Guy?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
Marian observed the exchange with renewed interest and noticed the shadow that crossed Gisborne's visage before he covered his face with his right arm.  
  
Most men of arms admired the Lionheart, Robin had always sung his praises- he'd even left her to follow his King to the end of the world- so she found it puzzling that a man who'd served by Richard's side did not.  
  
“Brother, this man is in need of immediate attention,” blurted out a footman, walking into the tent accompanying a gravely injured knight.  
  
“My lady, would you mind seeing to the wrapping?”  
  
“No, of course not. Go and tend to the young man. He seems to be in a lot of pain.”  
  
“Shall I give you a hand. Marian?” offered Meg, struggling to keep her queasy stomach under control by focusing on something other than the patient Tuck was helping a few feet away.  
  
“No, thanks, Meg. I can manage. Why don't you go and join Father? I'll be with you as soon as I'm done here.”  
  
The potion she had administered to Sir Guy was a strong one and it wasn't unusual for a patient in his circumstances to reveal the most inconvenient of things when drugged. In addition, Meg had always been a very observant girl and Marian knew that it'd be very hard not to blush or tremble as she had the previous night when her skin grazed his. She could still remember the feelings that touching him invoked.  
  
Left alone with Sir Guy, Friar Tuck and his moaning patient, Marian approached the knight and aided him to sit up despite his initial reticence to accept any help.  
  
Struggling to focus on the task at hand and deal with her patient in as impersonal a way as she could, she used the salved bandages to wrap his shoulder and chest in order to keep his left arm as immobile as possible.  
  
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly when he suddenly sucked in his breath.  
  
“I'm not complaining. It isn't every day that my wounds are tended by a beautiful woman,” he slurred, his northern accent becoming more pronounced.  
  
Marian tried to fight the flame that leapt to life when he smiled and caressed her cheek with warm and gentle fingers. Entranced, she bent closer to his lips as if pulled by some preternatural force.  
  
“You should lie down and rest,” she urged him in a shaky voice she hardly recognised as her own.  
  
“I should have kissed you last night,” he whispered, tracing her lips with his thumb.  
  
“Sir Guy...” she panted, nervously glancing at Tuck over the knight's shoulder to make sure the monk was still busy with his other patient.  
  
“Your skin's so soft, just at I imagined it'd feel like when I saw you walk into the hall to capture my heart.”  
  
His deep, chocolatey voice rendered huskier by the numbing effect of the potion, enveloped her in a sensual cocoon from which she didn't want to wake up. The mysterious knight had awoken needs and feelings in Marian she hadn't known resided in her and, although common sense and duty demanded she nip them in the bud, the allure to taste passion just once before shackling her life to a man she didn't love was fast becoming too strong to resist.    
  
“I always thought him a knave...” he mumbled  
  
“Shh...,” she hushed him, darting a glance at Friar Tuck,“lie down.”  
  
“To barter the promise of a lifetime waking up next to a fair lady such as you... for the ephemeral dream of glory... What a... fool!”  
  
The slurred words touched Marian and also puzzled her. “Sir Guy?”  
  
“Mm?” he replied weakly, his mesmerising blue-grey eyes partially hidden by sooty eyelashes as he studied her lovely mouth with hazy concentration.  
  
“Who... who's a fool?” she asked with a thoughtful frown, wondering if her former betrothed and Gisborne had crossed paths. It'd be the only explanation possible... unless he'd heard the servants gossiping about their broken engagement.    
  
“What?”  
  
“Nothing. Save your strength. Tuck's almost finished with the other patient,” she replied with a soothing smile. He obviously had no control over what came out of his mouth and urging him to keep talking was a double-edged weapon.  
  
“My Lady... would you promise me something?” he asked all of a sudden, taking her hand in his warm grasp.  
  
“What is it?” she whispered, bending down to hear his fainting voice.  
  
“He's no gentleman... Right to despise him... Tell him I know he had my equipment fixed... Tell him he's going to pay,” he said in a raspy voice before closing his eyes and succumbing to sleep.  
  
There was no need for him to make names. There was one man she despised with all her heart and last night she had let her mask slip for an unguarded moment, time enough for the observant knight to read her innermost thoughts when their eyes met and held across the crowded room for a brief but meaningful spell.  
  
She loathed Winchester. He disgusted her and Gisborne was privy to her secret. And now the handsome knight was clearly accusing the earl of foul play- in other words, he was charging a very powerful man... her future husband... with attempted murder.  
  
Had Winchester really tried to kill Sir Guy? She knew her late mother's old suitor was capable of acting out of malice and using every means at his disposal to get what he wanted. But why Gisborne? What threat did the younger man pose to him? Unless... Was it possible he considered Sir Guy a rival for her affections? No, it couldn't be. And yet.... what if someone had witnessed their meeting in the garden? She hadn't noticed anyone. Maybe somebody had watched them from the shadows, misconstrued the innocent encounter and then reported it to Winchester. Was a short conversation and a featherlike kiss on her knuckles reason enough to try to kill a man? Or was there another reason, one that had nothing to do with her and Winchester's plans to bind her to him for life?  
  
“Ah, here you are!” exclaimed Lord Winchester, marching into the tent and approaching Marian with a proprietary look in his reptilian eyes. “He's not dead, is he?” he added, glancing over at Gisborne.  
  
Marian put on her best fake smile and struggled to keep her rebellious tongue in check. Although she was more than inclined to believe Sir Guy, accusing the earl without concrete proof would only  earn the knight the enmity of a merciless man with close connections with Prince John, who was  just as ruthlessly devious.  
  
“No, he's resting. He was seriously wounded, though. He won't be able to travel for a couple of weeks at least.”  
  
Winchester frowned. “Friar Tuck seems to have everything under control here. Come. Let's take a walk.”

* * *

  
  
“You've inherited your father's generous heart, Lady Marian. Unfortunately, this world is full of unscrupulous people and one can never be too careful when offering hospitality to complete strangers; they may end up stabbing you in the back. That Northerner, for example. It'd be better for him to be on his way.”  
  
Marian felt suddenly tense. Would this be the moment when he revealed he knew about her tête-à-tête with Gisborne?  
  
“Why's that?”  
  
“The man's no true knight. He's no gentleman. King Richard himself cast him out of his retinue. That should be proof of he's not being honourable enough to sleep under your roof.”  
  
“On what grounds was he cast out?”  
  
“He had a quarrel with the Lionheart. Knowing Our Majesty's reputation, Gisborne should count himself lucky to still have his head attached to the rest of his body.”  
  
“Where did you learn this? There was nothing amiss when his licence was read before the tournament. Maybe the decision to leave the king's side was Sir Guy's.”  
  
“Do you doubt me?” frowned Winchester.  
  
“No, of course not,” she tried to placate him with a fake smile.”But, considering Gisborne's reputation in the field and the youth of most of the participants, I wouldn't be surprised if some of the most envious contenders decided to cast aspersions on him to get an edge. In any case, I would hate to see my father judged as an ungracious host by refusing to allow a wounded knight to stay over until he's mended. ”  
  
“Sometimes your intelligence makes me forget how little you know about the ways of the world, Marian,” he replied with a lustful look in his eyes. “It isn't just the Sheriff's good name I'm worried about...”  
  
Marian cringed inwardly when he brushed her cheek and she wished she could tell him in his face exactly how repulsive she found his touch and how little she trusted him. However, she had to think of Meg and her father's security.  
  
“Please, My Lord, forgive me if my words were taken as an insult. I assure you it's never been my intention to anger you.”  
  
“How could I ever be angry with a beautiful lady such as you?” he murmured hungrily into her ear, tugging her closer to him.  
  
“My Lord...” she said with a slight tremor in her voice as she splayed her hands on Winchester’s chest to try to extricate herself from his embrace,“we shouldn't be so indiscreet.”  
  
“Are you afraid someone might see us? I find the idea quite exciting, ” he chuckled, lowering his head intent on kissing her only to meet her cheek. “You're trying my patience, My Lady,” he glared at her.”I've given you sufficient time to get used to the idea of becoming Lady Winchester. Or do you simply enjoy making me mad with jealousy?”  
  
Marian experienced a sudden oppression in her chest. Were his words the confirmation she'd been dreading- that her meeting with Sir Guy had been witnessed? If so, Winchester would not only be capable of making she and her blood suffer; there were Sir Guy and anybody close to him.  
  
Making use of her best acting tools, Marian took a step forward and- wounding her arms around the earl's neck- fluttered her eyelashes and purred, “A lady needs to make sure she's duly appreciated.”  
  
“You're full of surprises, Marian,” he replied, tightening his arms around her in a possessive hold that reflected the carnal craving in his eyes.  
  
She'd known the time would come when she would no longer be able to keep Winchester waiting. Sir Edward was getting weaker each passing day and soon the earl might approach Prince John to inform him that her father was no longer fit to be a Sheriff and that someone—some man—must be put in charge of Knighton since its lord was too frail to look after the property and the villagers. And who better than Lord Winchester himself to fill in the role?  
  
There was only one way to keep close watch on her late mother's old suitor and aid those who couldn't help themselves. For a moment she wished herself miles away at Kirklee's Abbey; had she taken the veil when Robin left for the Holy Land she wouldn't have been standing here cornered by an asp. And yet, her being a wife of Christ probably wouldn't have stopped the earl from scheming to have Sir Edward removed and seize all his property and also his position as the Sheriff of Nottingham.  
  
“I have an answer to your request of marriage, My Lord.”  
  
“And what is your answer?”  
  
“I'll be honoured to be your wife.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Betrayed by his latest master and mocked by the cruel hand of destiny, Sir Guy of Gisborne returns to Nottingham twenty years after his banishment determined to reclaim the life which should have been his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set in an alternate Series 1 where Guy has never met Vasey before his arrival in Nottingham, this fic will explore what impact an earlier acquaintance with Marian might have had on Guy's life and ultimate fate.
> 
> Disclaimer: Tiger Aspect Productions and the BBC are free to claim whatever they own of this piece, except Guy's thoughts and my words which are ours to keep.

_You must be strong. Close your eyes and think yourself elsewhere. Think of Sherwood and riding carefree in the woods, where once upon a time your cheeks blushed and your heartbeat quickened with a couple of chaste kisses robbed by the boy who you dreamt would be your husband one day._  
  
How different were these plundering lips, which looked only to gratify their owner, from the warm and electrifying brush of another pair which last night sought to worship rather than steal or dominate.  
  
Marian hated being out of her depth and found herself praying Winchester couldn't see through her inexperience to discover the feelings of revulsion and impotence that were barely contained. As little patience as she had with courtly games, she preferred them to this forceful submission which did nothing but rob her of her sense of dignity and dreams of independence.  
  
 _“Just breathe deeply and don't do anything that might make him doubt your sincerity,”_ she told herself the moment she felt one of his hands leave her waist and stray to trace curves which had remained uncharted territory for twenty-one years.  
  
“My Lord, I've appreciated your patience so far. Please, don't spoil things by trying to seize now what I pledged to gift you with on our wedding night!” she cried, grabbing his roving hand.  
  
“Don't be coy, Marian. I've waited long enough for my reward,” he glared, tightening his hold on her.  
  
“You only have to name the day you'd have me for your wife and it'll be yours for the taking,” she smiled, putting on an appearance of happiness for the sake of her family's safety.  
  
“I wish it could be today, but it'd be too short a notice for those who have to travel far to share in our joy on such an important day,” he replied visibly appeased.  
  
“Provided you allow me a fortnight to make all the preparations necessary to entertain our guests as befits their station and yours, I'll leave that decision in your hands,” she replied, trying not to think that a fortnight was how long it'd take Sir Guy to be healed enough to leave.  
  
“I trust your well-honed abilities as a hostess, my lady. I'll give you a list of my guests so that you can start issuing the invitations. As soon as their replies come in, I'll make the formal announcement.”  
  
The fact that she could influence her husband-to-be wasn't enough to lift her spirit. This bleak despair she found herself in was a burden to be borne alone; both Sir Edward and Meg should believe her as content with her choice as Lord Winchester.  
  
“I can't wait to make you mine,” he murmured, pulling her to him and kissing her once again without any trace of tenderness or even lust. She was just someone else to dominate.  
  
“I hope I'll be everything you wish for, my lord,” she replied, refusing to let him believe she could be intimidated or frightened by him.  
  
“I've no doubt you will,” he smiled slowly.”I've entertained you long enough. Tuck seems to have his hands full. Let not be said that Lord Winchester is not an understanding master or that he stands in the way of his lady's generous heart. I'll see you again at dinner.”  
  
“I'll see you then, my lord,” she answered, masking her relief before hurrying back to the tent where Sir Guy lay unconscious.

 

* * *

  
“I don’t trust him,” Sir Jasper muttered, looking at the short bearded man standing close to the window.  
  
Winchester glanced at Lord Vasey and then smiled at Sir Jasper. “Because he’s a northerner?”  
  
“They’re all savages.”  
  
“Savages are fearsome warriors,” Lord Vasey said, taking a gulp from his goblet. “And this one... Well, he has very personal reasons for hating Richard. Loyal servants make the worst enemies when they're betrayed by their masters.”  
  
“You haven't told us yet what brought about this estrangement,” Winchester cut in.  
  
“What matters is that Sir Guy's seen and experienced first-hand that the Lionheart isn't the hero or the model of virtue all those ballads have painted,” explained Vasey.  
  
“I don't see what difference that could make,” Winchester pointed out. “Richard still has plenty of supporters to fight these Crusades.”  
  
“He’s spent more time in his Norman domains than here whereas Prince John has rarely left,” Sir Jasper added. “Richard hasn't even learnt the language of his people.”  
  
“Prince John has stayed in England only because he’s been trying to wrest it from Richard’s rule,” Vasey replied.  
  
“John would make a better ruler,” Sir Jasper declared.  
  
“Well, that doesn't factor in our plan. What's important is that he's the easiest to intimidate of the two brothers.”  
  
“I still don't understand what we need Gisborne for,” Sir Jasper mumbled. “And, correct me if I'm wrong, but I don’t think you trust him either, not with the way he looked at Lady Marian,” he added, addressing Lord Winchester.  
  
“Let him look,” replied the earl coolly.”This afternoon she accepted my hand in marriage and we'll wed before the summer's over,”  
  
“So what was that about Gisborne's accident in the field? I was under the impression you meant it as a warning,” asked Jasper doubtfully.  
  
“It was an accident. His lance shattered.”  
  
“La di da di da! Do we care about a lovers' tiff and an inconsequential leper when the stakes are so high? A clue: No!” exclaimed Vasey impatient. “I don't care if you don't like him or if you feel threatened by his good looks, we need him on our side. Someone has to get his hands dirty in this business or do you think yourself equipped for the killing mission?”  
  
Sir Jasper paled. “Are you planning to assassinate King Richard?”  
  
“What did you think we were discussing? A picnic?” Vasey snapped.  
  
“I... I... assumed...”  
  
“Are you with us... or not?” Vasey interrupted him in a menacing tone which made Winchester’s blood run cold. Lord Peter Vasey was the most ruthless person Winchester had ever met and would have no qualms about tossing Jasper off the battlements if he found no more use for him.  
  
“If it can be done without repercussions, you can definitely count me in.”  
  
“We wouldn't be setting this plan in motion if we weren't sure of its successs. The Black Knights have strengthened their ranks with support from the nobilty in Wales and Ireland. The Scots are next. You don't need to worry about Gisborne. I won't ask either of you to befriend him to help the cause. You can leave him to me,” grinned Vasey. “For the time being, though, what we've discussed goes no further than this room. Are we clear?”  
  
Winchester and Jasper both nodded.  
  
“Good. Leave us, Sir Jasper. There's a matter I have to discuss with Lord Winchester in private.”  
  
When Sir Jasper had closed the heavy door behind him, Winchester eyed Vasey. “Do you think he's going to keep his mouth shut?”  
  
“For some reason Prince John likes him and Jasper knows what he risks if he talks too much.”  
  
“Where do you know Gisborne from?”  
  
“My late brother saw him fight in the Holy Land. He's got a leashed darkness that could work to our advantage with the right tutoring and incentive. I would be very upset if anything were to happen to him. I don't want any foolish misstep to ruin our plans.”  
  
Winchester nodded, knowing his climb to power could be hastened or thwarted by Vasey.  
  
“So... the virtuous Lady Marian. Have you bedded her yet?”  
  
“No, not yet.”  
  
“I'm surprised. I would have never expected you to be so patient. Still... your betrothal is an important step. The faster you wed her and consummate your marriage the better. An alllegiance with Lord Edward will help us get allies from those quarters that are still hesitant. We must move soon. Now... if you'll excuse me, it's been a long journey. I bid you goodnight.”  
  
Left alone in the room Winchester poured himself another goblet. One day soon, Nottingham would be his. He would have riches and power beyond measure and the woman he'd desired for so long next to him.  
  
And Richard, the man who'd dared slight him by denying him a place in his retinue, would be finally dead.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Betrayed by his latest master and mocked by the cruel hand of destiny, Sir Guy of Gisborne returns to Nottingham twenty years after his banishment determined to reclaim the life which should have been his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set in an alternate Series 1 where Guy has never met Vasey before his arrival in Nottingham, this fic will explore what impact an earlier acquaintance with Marian might have had on Guy's life and ultimate fate. 
> 
> Disclaimer: Tiger Aspect Productions and the BBC are free to claim whatever they own of this piece, except Guy's thoughts and my words which are ours to keep.

 

Guy woke up with a splitting headache and a searing pain in his shoulder. He was drained from all energy and found no strength left in him to either cry or moan. And even if he had had an ounce of energy left in him, his tongue and throat were too dry to articulate a sound.  
  
Surveying his surroundings, he tried to remember how he'd ended up occupying one of the castle's rooms when he'd spent the previous nights in a tent, lying in a modest cot. Clearly someone had carried him here while he was unconscious.  
  
Dawn was breaking, judging by the light coming through the small window. He had slept at least twelve hours.  
  
Closing his eyes, he went over the events of the previous day, the lance shattering and the excruciating pain following the collision. Carefully, he raised his uninjured arm and touched the bandages and the sling. Lady Marian. She'd tended to him. Even now he was able to feel her hands undressing him, robbing him of breath.  
  
He remembered the agony that followed and which numbed every sensation until she administered the draft the friar had prepared. After that, his memories became disjointed.  
  
Her hands so gentle and graceful. The delightful wrinkle which appeared when she knotted her brow in concentration. Her tantalizing lips, red as ripe cherries waiting to be plucked. All this he was able to feel, see and even taste in the most vivid of dreams.  
  
He heard his own voice confess how much he admired her soft skin and felt his lips tingle with the memory of his mouth brushing against hers as he gently tasted her sweetness with the most delicate of kisses.  
  
His heart had fluttered with joy and hope when her arms had slid around his neck before she stepped closer into the circle of his arms.The tender warmth of that first kiss then turned into unbridled passion. For a brief moment Guy considered putting an end to the intoxicating liplock, knowing himself unworthy of her, but the passionate response of her maidenly mouth under his made him reluctant to give up savouring a piece of heaven willingly bestowed.  
  
Suddenly, the kaleidoscope of images swirled and he was holding her close with no barriers between them. He trembled as her pebbled peaks came in contact with his naked chest and her strong thighs, strengthened by her hours in the saddle, opened to cradle the proof of his desire. Her hair smelled like wild thyme and apples, reminding him of his early childhood, the only time he'd ever known happiness. Pressing a trail of heated kisses along the delicate column of her neck, he felt the quickening of her pulse when his hand brushed one luscious breast.  
  
No words were uttered; they somehow seemed irrelevant when so much was being communicated with a simple brush of their lips, a look or a caress. His fingers threaded through hers and gently, as if she were made of the brittlest china, he touched her.  
  
“Do you trust me, my lady?” he whispered, looking into her expressive blue eyes and noticing the virginal worry which lingered despite her willingness. “I will never harm you.”  
  
“I know,” she smiled, brushing away a lock of unruly hair that fell across his forehead and drawing him closer, until their lips met again and her mouth parted to allow his tantalising teasing.  
  
“I want to love you,” he said huskily. “May I love you, Marian?” he pleaded, afraid that she'd open her eyes and reject him in the same way the world had persistently cast him out, deeming him unworthy.  
  
However, when her eyes finally met his, there was no revulsion in their depths but passion, need and understanding. Joy overwhelmed him when he read in them that she accepted him despite his reduced circumstances and the sins that tainted his soul.  
  
“Please,” she sighed against his lips, granting him permission to breach the final wall that separated her from womanhood.  
  
Enticed by the soft sounds that escaped her sweet mouth when his pleasured her pebbled peaks, he learnt her curves and with gentle hands he explored the secret, uncharted territory that lied between her thighs, intent on making her first time as pleasurably tender as she deserved.  
  
“Marian,” he moaned a few minutes later, locking her gaze with his as she finally surrounded him and made him whole again.

* * *

   
A dream, he sighed. The same recurrent dream sent to torment him and remind him of what would never be his. Unless...Some of it felt so real. No, it was just Tuck's draft playing tricks on my mind. The room spun around him for a short while when he sat up on his bed. He was no ninny; he should be able to put up with a fleeting bout of dizziness if he was to continue his journey.  
  
Finding love and having one's feelings requited was a beautiful dream, and experience had taught him that dreams seldom came true. He should know better than to entertain such thoughts; humanity and attachments had always ended up with him getting hurt. And he'd promised himself he'd never be that vulnerable again. Although his desire for revenge hadn't dwindled, he knew his wounds and current state of mind put him at a disadvantage. He'd let his arm heal elsewhere and return to Nottingham a richer man to finally show those who had made outcasts of Isabella and him that he was no longer the defenceless and naïve boy they'd once known.  
  
Making measured movements to keep his dizziness under control, he started getting dressed.  
  
The events of the melée played in his mind once again. He remembered checking his lance the night before the tournament and finding nothing amiss. And yet it'd broken or rather, it'd shattered into pieces, and that fact couldn't be explained any other way but as a result of foul play.  
  
Even though there were a couple of knights at Nottingham Guy had beaten in other tournaments, a sixth sense told him the blame for his current predicament didn't lie with them. Maybe he was being prejudiced; however, he couldn't dispel the feeling that Winchester had played a major role in the incident.  
  
Guy hoped he'd succeeded at masking the growing attraction he'd developed towards the sheriff's daughter. Jealousy could be a destructive power when stirred and God only knew to what extremes the earl might go under its influence, especially if he suspected his feelings were unrequited and saw another man as a rival for the lady's affections.  


* * *

   
The castle was stirring when the tall knight arrived at the stables; his morning ablutions having taken longer than usual on account of his injured arm.  
  
Stormbringer, who had been quietly munching on the hay, lifted his head and whinnied a greeting on hearing his master.  
  
Guy approached the stall, petted his faithful mount and then ran his hand over the horse’s body and legs looking for any wounds he might have sustained during the melée.  
  
The horse's fidgeting and Guy's own keen sense of survival, which had saved his life countless times in the Holy Land, alerted the knight they were no longer alone. Whirling around with his broadsword at the ready, he bit back a French expletive when he came face-to-face with the red-haired girl he recognised as Marian's cousin.  
  
“My Lady,” he sighed, sheathing his sword, “you should know better than to walk on an armed man unannounced.”  
  
“I'm sorry,” replied the maid slightly breathless. “I thought of bringing him an apple before Mass,” she added, getting closer to the Saracen destrier with the fruit in her hand. “It's a beautiful beast,” she smiled when Stormbringer nuzzled her rosy cheek.  
  
“Does anybody know you are at the stables? You shouldn't be here unchaperoned, My Lady.”  
  
“Meg?”  
  
Guy felt his chest tighten, awestruck once again by Lady Marian's lovely demeanour.  
  
“Is it time for Lauds?” Meg asked as her cousin came to a halt in front of them.  
  
Marian focused on Meg and did her best to ignore the tall, handsome man in black leather, who had occupied her thoughts ever since that chance encounter in the garden.“Not yet, but Tuck's getting ready. Why don't you give him a hand with the preparations?”  
  
Meg nodded reluctantly and, saying her goodbyes, left them alone.  
  
Marian told herself she was being foolish; there was no reason to avoid looking at Sir Guy. After all, hadn't she seen him half naked when she nursed his injuries? Besides she was pledged to Winchester and therefore, bound by honour not to betray her promise by succumbing to another man, no matter how strong his power of fascination might be.  
  
“How's your shoulder this morning, Sir Guy?”  
  
“Still sore but not as bad as yesterday.”  
  
“May I?” she asked, adopting as impersonal a stance as she could muster.  
  
Checking his pulse on his left wrist, she struggled hard to control the wayward thoughts that came to her mind on feeling the warmth of his skin under her fingertips. Swallowing the big lump lodged in her throat, she kept her gaze low, embarrassed by the unbidden reaction of her treacherous body as memories of his naked chest and long lithe legs assailed her.  
  
“My lady?” he asked huskily.  
  
Why did his deep velvety voice have to sound so sinfully enticing? She belonged to Winchester now; she shouldn't be fantasising with another man's caresses or whispered endearments.  
  
“I had... some very strange dreams,” he confessed when she let go of his hand.  
  
Marian wondered if he was able to read on her face how much affected she was by the heat of his blue-grey eyes, which studied her intently.  
  
“It must be a side effect of the draft.”  
  
“They felt… so real.”  
  
Only a few moments had elapsed since she set foot in the stables and yet it felt as if she'd lived through every possible emotion- thrilling, sad and bittersweet- by just being in the same room as Sir Guy.  
  
Although she knew that it was wrong of her to feel the way she did whenever he was in her proximity, the knowledge that there was a man who respected and felt true affection for her was balm for her despair. She just had to look into his eyes to see how different his love and passionate longing were from his betrothed's selfish lust and unscrupulous hunger for possession. And it was precisely the vulnerability a proud man such as Sir Guy allowed her to read in their depths that prompted her to be honest with him. He deserved that much from her.  
  
Assuming the mask of calm dignity she'd learnt to master as de facto head of her family, she shared with him the news she had yet to break to Sir Edward and Meg.  
  
She observed Sir Guy’s handsome face closely, looking for any sign of the effect of her words, her proclamation that she would be Winchester's willing bride soon now that she'd pledged herself to the earl. And with an agonising pang she recognised in Guy's poker face the same protective mask she'd assumed to reveal the news of her betrothal.  
  
It took every ounce of her self-esteem not to break down in front of him. There would be time to let her tears flow unchecked in the privacy of her chamber; now she'd finish what she started when she sought him at the stables.  
  
“Yesterday, when your injuries were being treated, you suggested somebody had tampered with your equipment.”  
  
“There can be no other explanation. Oak would never split and shatter that way.”  
  
“Have you got any concrete proof to support your allegations?”  
  
“I'd need to study the pieces that remain from my lance.”  
  
“Do you suspect the earl?”  
  
“He might have motive.”  
  
“There's no reason for him to be jealous,” she replied, looking away from his expressive eyes.  
  
“Marian...”  
  
Hearing her name uttered so sweetly broke her resolve and she glanced at him once again. Their gazes locked in much the same way they had across the hall full of people the first night their paths had intersected. There was no trace of accusation in his, only an intense longing to be the one she allowed to protect her and rescue her from the abyss.  
  
“Sir Guy, promise me that no matter what you find out, you won't accuse Lord Winchester.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Betrayed by his latest master and mocked by the cruel hand of destiny, Sir Guy of Gisborne returns to Nottingham twenty years after his banishment determined to reclaim the life which should have been his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set in an alternate Series 1 where Guy has never met Vasey before his arrival in Nottingham, this fic will explore what impact an earlier acquaintance with Marian might have had on Guy's life and ultimate fate.
> 
> Disclaimer: Tiger Aspect Productions and the BBC are free to claim whatever they own of this piece, except Guy's thoughts and my words which are ours to keep.

Lady Marian's unexpected entreaty shocked him and sent him into a spiral of confusion. No other woman had ever provoked in him such contradictory emotions in such a short span- joy and anguish, hope and despair.   
  
“He's not someone you'd wish for an enemy. He's a powerful man with equally powerful allies.      He'd not hesitate to destroy you or those close to you.”  
  
“Has he threatened you... or your family, milady?”  
  
Guy had met men like Winchester in the past and knew how they operated, just as he knew Lady Marian was the kind of woman who would stop at nothing, including marrying a man she loathed,  to protect the ones she loved. He admired her because of it but wished she weren't that strong for him to be able to render her a service. He was in no position to offer her the protection she needed; he had no power or means at his disposal, only his skill as a warrior- largely diminished because of his injury- and... his life, which he'd willingly lay at her feet. And, despite his reduced circumstances, he was determined to let her know she had an ally in him.  
  
“There's no need for you to explain,” he told her; her silence speaking louder than words.  
  
“You’re a knight. You must understand duty….and sacrifice… very well,” she replied, knowing instinctually there was nobody better than him to empathise with her current predicament.   
  
“I just want you to know you are not alone,” he said softly.“It's time for Lauds. Shall I accompany you back to the castle, milady?”  
  
Marian wondered what kind of penance she'd get after confession today for the sinful thoughts and feelings that warm and deep voice kept on stirring in her didn't befit her maidenly purity.  
  
“Will you join us, Sir Guy?” she asked him, even though his acquiescence would be nothing but a further complication in her already tumultuous state of mind. 

* * *

  
  
“Do you think it's time I got married?”  
  
“Where does this sudden interest in matrimony... your matrimony... come from, Meg?”  
  
“I know I used to say that if I had my way, all men would disappear in a puff of smoke and the world would be a happier place. But... now that I'm older I see things differently. Not all of them are insufferable... Take Uncle Edward... or...”  
  
“Or?” Lady Marian prodded, curious and, at the same, fearsome of what her cousin's answer might be. “Allan, perhaps?”  
  
“Allan?!” chuckled the red-haired, rolling her eyes.   
  
“So... if it isn't Allan-A-Dale the man that has managed to change your mind about the male gender, who is it?”  
  
Meg's usually rosy cheeks turned a deeper hue of red and a look of forlorn hope flashed in her eyes when her gaze alighted on the knight in black that was conversing with the Master-at-Arms in the courtyard.  
  
“Oh, Meg, no!” Marian shook her head on seeing her worst fear realised.  
  
“Why are you looking at me that way? I thought you’d approve. He’s an honourable man...”  
  
“He's poor and...”  
  
“Although he might be landless, I would take someone like him over any of the lecherous old men or conceited young knaves who believe a title and a rich coffer entitles them to decide our fortune or have us for a possession. Surely you can't object to his lineage; Allan's told me he knows for certain he's of noble blood just as we are. And he's been nothing but gallant and chivalrous in his treatment of us both.”  
  
“Meg, you know I'm only trying to do right by you. I want to make sure you're provided for in case anything were to happen to Father or myself.”  
  
“If I'm going to relinquish my independence, I don't want a cold loveless marriage of convenience.”  
  
“Has Sir Guy... ? Has he shown in deed or words you're the keeper of his heart?” asked Marian, doing her best to keep the tremor out of her voice.  
  
“No,” said softly a crestfallen Meg.  
  
“Listen to me, love. I can understand the allure of a man like him, but you've got to be realistic. Even if your feelings were requited the fact that he's had a fallout with King Richard doesn't make him the most suitable of choices for a husband. Yesterday I gave my answer to Lord Winchester. He's going to make a formal announcement as soon as the date's decided. My marriage will broaden our circle of acquaintances so, if you're bent on getting married...”  
  
“Let the matter rest for the time being, Marian,” she sighed, blinking away a couple of tears.” Now... I want to know all about your news. When did Winchester propose?”  
  
“There's no time for that presently, but I promise I'll tell you everything after Lauds. Why don't you go to the chapel? I want to see how Father's faring and will join you soon.”  
  
Although it was a coward's way out, Marian felt she needed a moment to restore her equilibrium before going to Mass. The realisation that both were in love with the same man had rattled her and the bout of jealousy which such an epiphany had sparked in her filled her with shame. It didn't matter Meg's chances of marrying Sir Guy were very slim, the fact that her younger cousin was free to love and hope while she was bound by duty to marry a man she knew to be a monster was enough to make her envious of the girl she loved like a sister.   
  
If only her father, whom she loved dearly, were stronger. But it was useless to dwell on what ifs.

* * *

  
  
Guy stood in the narthex, still feeling a penitent after his long bloody stint in the Holy Land, unworthy of kneeling in prayer near the pure-hearted woman who had stolen his heart. Through the screen, he observed the lady and her family partake in the religious office, while being stalked by the circling vulture of Winchester, and also witnessed Sir Edward’s crippling grief as the old man bowed in fervent prayer oblivious to his daughter’s own private hell.  
  
It didn’t matter that the knight knew Lady Marian wasn’t meant for him, the mere thought of her binding her life for eternity to one such as Lord Winchester made Guy's blood boil and his tainted soul revolt.  
  
 _Dominus vobiscum_ , Tuck's deep voice reverberated, signalling the moment had come for the final blessing.  
  
 _Benedicat vos omnipotens Deus Pater, et Filius, et Spiritus Sanctus._  
  
Guy tore his gaze reluctantly from Lady Marian and, making the sign of the cross, left the chapel ahead of the other parishioners. 

* * *

  
  
“Gisborne? Sir Guy of Gisborne?”  
  
Halting in the middle of the courtyard on hearing his name, the brooding knight turned around to meet a short, bearded middle-aged man he'd never seen before but who, for some unfathomable reason, looked disconcertingly familiar.  
  
“I'm afraid I don't have the pleasure,” replied the younger man with a puzzled frown.   
  
“You're right. We haven't been properly introduced. I'm Lord Peter Vasey. My eldest brother fought for King Richard in the Holy Land; I believe you were acquainted with him.”  
  
“I was privileged to call Lord Geoffrey my friend. It was an honour to serve by his side, milord.”  
  
The late Lord Vasey had taken Guy under his wing and taught Gisborne everything he knew, turning the young promising knight into the best swordsman and one of the most accomplished horsemen to have served in King Richard's cavalry.   
  
Guy had been a lanky and taciturn youth whose aloofness and dangerously mysterious aura kept people at bay. Lord Geoffrey had recognised his remoteness for what it was- an armour to protect the remnants of the sensitive and honourable inner core that the harsh blows of cruel fate had struggled so hard to destroy. Yes, Guy had to thank Lord Geoffrey for helping him tame his leashed ire and hurt which, if left to fester, would have doomed his soul and burnt to ash everything around him.   
  
The older man found in the young knight the son God had denied him and Guy the father King Henry had deprived him of. And it was this filial love and the humanity Geoffrey had seen behind Guy's cynical mask that had precipitated Gisborne's fallout with King Richard.  
  
In truth, everything started the day Guy saved a sheik's daughter from being raped by a drunken knight. As a reward, Gisborne got his faithful Saracen stallion- Stormbringer- and earned the resentment of the girl's assailant, the youngest son of a powerful lord in King Richard's court who happened to be a close friend of Guy's life-long nemesis, Robin of Locksley.  
  
There was no love lost between the Earl of Huntingdon and Sir Roger's first-born, and Lady Marian's former fiancé had let the bad blood that existed between them blind him in favour of the defiler. Robin seemed to relish Gisborne's final fall from the pedestal which had been only his before the swordman's arrival. It was thus that the long-standing feud, which had lain dormant during the years of Guy's banishment, sprang back to life with renewed force and ended up with Huntingdon lying in the infirmary with a serious sword wound in his flank and with Gisborne behind bars.  
  
Had it not been for the late Lord Vasey's persuasive mediation, Guy's pale back would now be criss-crossed by double the lashes he'd receive the day he dared to defy the King and forfeit everything he'd struggled for by sneaking a Saracen healer into the camp in a desperate attempt to save Sir Geoffrey from the clutches of leprosy.   
  
Looking back, Guy knew that even if he hadn't been found out by the very same knight who had assaulted the sheik's daughter, Lord Vasey's disease had been in too advanced a stage to make any difference. And still, Guy couldn't bear the thought of standing idly by while the same disease that had killed his father made of him an orphan again. Accepting the sheik's offer of aid in the form of his best physician and calling King Richard an inhuman self-serving monster for denying one of his most faithful lords the comforts befitting his station had cost Guy dearly. And yet, it was a decision he'd never regret.  
  
“I heard you were seriously wounded at the tournament,” said Peter Vasey, observing Guy's arm in a sling,” but it appears you're well on the road to recovery.”  
  
“Yes. Fortunately, it's nothing that won't mend with a few weeks of rest.”  
  
“I'm glad. I wouldn't have forgiven myself if any harm had come to you now that you're back in England.”  
  
“Milord?” replied Guy dumbfounded.  
  
“You're a very special young man, judging by the request Geoffrey made of me in his last epistle. And a promise made to a dying man, especially one whose blood one shares, should always be honoured. You can consider me family now, Gisborne; it'll be my pleasure to help you regain what was taken from you. I'm a very good judge of character, and I can tell you and I will get along famously. “  
  
“I... I don't know what to say, milord.”  
  
“Well, you can start by saying goodbye to those flea-infested pallets you've been sleeping on. I´ll  send my man ahead of me to prepare your quarters in the castle. I'm leaving for Sussex in five days' time.”  
  
“I don't want to seem ungrateful. Yours is certainly a generous offer but...”  
  
“But?”  
  
“Before I take it up I'd like to know the particulars. In what capacity would I join you in Sussex? I've never been a man of leisure and...”  
  
“Of course, of course, Sir Guy. All in due time,” chuckled Vasey. “Tell me,” he continued, turning towards a secluded corner of the courtyard where they could converse without being overheard,” is it true what they say about the Crusades, that the king will stop at nothing to attain his glory in the Kingdom of Heaven, including sucking his own Realm dry?”    
  
Although Guy knew the statement to be nothing but the truth, he couldn't say so openly. Lord Peter Vasey might be Geoffrey's brother but he was a stranger. Guy would not jeopardise his one chance to get his birthright back, no matter how slim, by granting his trust blindly to a man who might end up stabbing him in the back.  
  
“I am a loyal subject of my rightful king.”   
  
“Despite what he has done to your sister?”  
  
“My sister?”  
  
“I'm sorry; I thought you knew. King Richard married her off to an unsavoury character, Thornton I think his name is.”  
  
“Married? You must be mistaken. My sister lives at Wilton Abbey in Wiltshire.”  
  
“I'm afraid things changed while you were away. The king sent an emissary on your behalf to tell Isabella that her brother had second thoughts about the dowry he'd granted the sisters to take her in- a dowry he'd sweat blood and tears to secure, fighting in tournaments on the continent and killing infidels in the Holy Land. It appears he'd paid too much to put a roof over her head and had met a squire called Thornton who would be able to take Isabella off his hands for a much cheaper price. Richard can be really vindictive when he's cross, can't he?”  
  
Bella. His little sister, whom he hadn't seen in years. The only surviving link to his dead parents and a painful past he'd striven to leave behind.  
  
Salisbury. He had to ride to Salisbury and talk to the Mother Superior to find out if what Lord Vasey had said was true.  
  
“If you excuse me, milord, I need to see Friar Tuck to get some salve for my shoulder.”  
  
“Of course, go ahead. We can continue our little chat later. I hope your injury heals soon.”

* * *

  
  
Richard had threatened to charge him with treason punishable with execution if he ever saw his face again, but Guy was determined to see into the matter and find a solution. Isabella was his flesh and blood and he refused to lose her too. Oh, how she must hate him!  
  
He'd resort to the king’s justiciar and demand…request…that something be done. He would move heaven and earth to have the marriage annulled... Vasey had called Thornton unsavoury and Guy trembled to think what indignities his only sister was being put through.   
  
Alarming as the news was, it was the timely excuse Guy needed to leave Nottingham before his feelings for Lady Marian deepened and he allowed his lonely heart to see hope where there was none.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Betrayed by his latest master and mocked by the cruel hand of destiny, Sir Guy of Gisborne returns to Nottingham twenty years after his banishment determined to reclaim the life which should have been his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set in an alternate Series 1 where Guy has never met Vasey before his arrival in Nottingham, this fic will explore what impact an earlier acquaintance with Marian might have had on Guy's life and ultimate fate.
> 
> Disclaimer: Tiger Aspect Productions and the BBC are free to claim whatever they own of this piece, except Guy's thoughts and my words which are ours to keep.

 

_NOTTINGHAM CASTLE’S CHAPEL- LATE IN THE EVENING_

 

“I knew you were heartless, Harold, but your own flesh and blood... ” Vasey remarked theatrically, crossing himself and looking up at Christ in mock prayer. “Oh, well, I suppose he asked for it- sneaking and listening in on private conversations of a sensitive nature. Right, Harold? There's no room for betrayal, and your boy's doubtful allegiance to the cause was worrying, especially now that we're so close. You should have known better than to leave your bastard with the leper who begot him. He spent too much time clinging to her skirts and developed a conscience. Lepers, my friend, are never to be trusted. I hope you won't make the same mistake twice,” interjected Vasey.

 

“My wife will do as she's told. I'll teach her who's master,” snapped Winchester, fuming at being remonstrated.

 

“As long as Lady Marian doesn't interfere with our plans, I couldn't care less what you do with her. Now, let's get down to business.”

 

“Is Gisborne with us?” asked Winchester, his antipathy towards the mysterious knight patent in his voice.

 

“He was cast out of the king’s retinue and, for someone with an empty title and no lands, that’s a heavy blow. Richard shattered his dreams of recuperating his inheritance. His misfortune is our gain. We have the brains; he has the muscles and the drive. I know an ambitious man when I see one.”

 

“And how do you know he won’t betray us to Richard to earn back his trust?” added Lady Marian’s betrothed.

 

“Oh, yes, that. Well, unlike you, Harold, the man still seems to have scruples when it comes to sacrificing his own kin to realise his ambitions,” sneered Vasey. “We have to thank Sir Jasper for coming up with a brilliant plan in the form of his cousin Thornton. The Squire was more than ready to collaborate when we promised him Prince John would reward his services handsomely. A great pity about Allan. We could have had a triple wedding and fatten our coffins into the bargain. If he'd married Lady Marian's cousin, Harold, your alliance with Knighton would have been stronger. Now we must find another husband for the charming Lady Meg, and another alliance.”

 

“And you think Sir Jasper to be the right choice?”

 

“What's the matter, Harold? The prospect of having only one of the lepers warming your bed's not enough? You should learn to share and have a look at the bigger picture. Sir Jasper might be a fool, but he's Thornton's cousin and we need the squire; Isabella Gisborne's our trump card to get her brother on board. When the time comes, I'll see to Jasper. In the meantime, we'll keep him happy by dangling pretty little Meg of Knighton before his nose.”

 

“I don't see why you're set on having Gisborne on our side. I don't trust him and I don't think...”

 

“No, you don't think. That's why I'm here. Friar Tuck's a clever and observant man. We don't know if your boy had a sudden bout of piety and chose to betray our plans in the confessional, but we both do know Allan's death wasn't accidental and our friend in cloak was the first one on the scene. It's time you stopped taking matters into your own hands, Harold. I won't have everything spoilt by your haphazard schemes.”

 

“Look here, Vasey...”

 

“Tsk tsk... you're getting sloppy with age, my friend. It's a good thing I happened to stop by the armoury this morning before Gisborne could retrieve his lance. You should know better than to leave evidence behind. Listen to me and listen to me very carefully. Whatever you do reflects upon me, and I'll have no compunction to cut you or any of the Black Knights loose if you jeopardise what I have worked so hard for.”

 

“Are you threatening me?” glared Winchester, unsheathing his sword.

 

“Come, come, Harold,” chuckled Vasey.”You wouldn't like to tempt the wrath of the Almighty and Prince John by spilling the blood of his most trusted ally in the House of the Lord, would you?”

 

“If you want your life and my seal and signature in that bloody pact, I'll have Marian and Sussex,” replied Winchester through gritted teeth.

 

“Sussex?”

 

“Yes, Sussex. Buckingham and Spencer are nervous. They'll do as they're told, but if something were to happen to me or if they saw me falter, your house of cards would come tumbling down. If you want this pact signed, you'll give me Sussex, some Surrey...”

 

“You already have Warwick, Lincoln and Cambridge!”

 

“That's my price, Peter. ”

 

“You drive a hard bargain, Harold.”

 

“That should teach you to never underestimate me.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

A couple of days later, Guy walked through the courtyard of Nottingham Castle after the evening meal had concluded, heading back to the chamber he'd been assigned.

 

Since Allan’s passing, he hadn't seen either Lady Marian or the old Sheriff. The role of host had been left in the hands of Lord Winchester, who was expected to leave the following morning with his late squire's remains. Considering the earl already acted as the Lord of the castle, Guy thought it wouldn't be surprising if the man were not only after the chatelaine's hand and dowry but also after the Sheriff's coveted position.

 

Not for the first time did Guy wish things were different, but there was no use in dwelling on what-ifs; he had troubles of his own to deal with. Still, his heart appeared reluctant to be ruled by his mind when it came to Sir Edward's daughter and her plight. He admired her fortitude and her willingness to sacrifice her own happiness and comfort to protect those she loved. Just like Marian,

he had been saddled with responsibilities very early in life, taking up on himself the security of his late mother and his baby sister when his father left for the Crusades and later made orphans of Isabella and him, dooming them to exile and destitution.

 

And now even Bella might be lost to him.

 

Suddenly overcome by loneliness and despair he unconsciously retraced his steps in search of the castle's chapel. The heinous crimes he had witnessed, and on occasion perpetrated in the name of God when he served the Crown in the Holy Land. haunted him and deepened his own sense of unworthiness. He doubted he’d ever feel clean again, and yet his soul yearned for the comfort of prayer and the redeeming promise of atonement; the hope that he might still be reunited with his dead father and his beloved mother when his time arrived.

 

Lighting a voting candle to the Madonna, he stepped closer to the altar only to find there was someone else who had felt the need of the Holy Virgin's succour. A young woman, her head bowed, knelt in prayer; her heart-wrenching sobs touching a cord in the tall and slender knight.

 

He'd always felt gauche around the opposite sex and particularly ill-equipped to deal with a woman in tears, having spent most of his solitary adolescence and adult life surrounded only by battle-hardened men and talk of war. However, there was something familiar about the lady that stirred his protective instinct.

 

His heart clenched at the thought he might have just intruded upon the private grief of the castle's chatelaine. She'd clearly sought the quiet refuge of the chapel to unburden her soul away from prying eyes just as he had, so he must respect her need for solitude no matter how much he yearned he could be the one entitled to offer her comfort.

 

He took a step back, but the jingle of his spurs gave him away, startling the woman, who stopped praying and turned her head to meet his stormy blue eyes with her tear-filled ones.

 

A mixed feeling of disappointment and relief settled in his chest. The grieving woman wasn't the lady who had captured his heart but her young cousin, Lady Meg.

 

“Forgive my intrusion, my lady,” he said softly, making a slight bow with his head and turning to leave.

 

“Please... Sir Guy. Please, don't go,” she sniffled, rising to her feet and coming closer to him.

 

“You're unchaperoned, my lady. You know it isn't proper,” he said gently, seeing the sorrow etched on her tear-stained face. She looked so young and vulnerable despite her rebellious streak. He couldn't help but be reminded of Bella when he left her at the Abbey and she beseeched him with eyes brimmed with tears not to leave her behind.

 

“Please, I just need... I need to know if he suffered too much...”

 

_A Dale._

 

“I don't think his agony was prolonged,” he replied, hoping he didn't come across as uncouth as he sounded to his own ears.

 

“It's all my fault, you see,” she sobbed.” I should have... I should have been nicer to him... It wasn't my intention to... to.... hurt him... “

 

“If what you felt for him was what a sister feels for a brother, you did the right thing, my lady. I cannot claim to be privy to the young man's thoughts or sentiments, but I know that _I_ would have preferred to experience the heartbreak of knowing my feelings unrequited over living a lie created around a lady's fake protestations of love.”

 

“If it was the right thing to do... then why do I feel so guilty?” she choked, bursting into tears again.

 

The knight suddenly found himself completely out of his depth; a predicament he had nobody except himself to blame for. He had dug up his own hole when all he had meant was to soothe her in his own clumsy way. He must have sounded pompous, but he was a soldier and hadn't learnt how to express himself but bluntly.

 

“My lady,” he murmured, making a hesitant move to touch her arm in comfort before a sudden irrepressible urge made him raise his gaze to see the chatelaine of Nottingham Castle at the door of the chapel, looking on the scene with an indefinable emotion in her eyes.

 

“Marian...” Meg hiccupped, alerted of her cousin's presence by the knight's evident discomfiture and the palpable tension crackling in the air. “Please, don't be angry,” she pleaded.

 

“I can give you my word as a knight that nothing improper happened,” he interceded.

 

Ignoring the man, whose close proximity never failed to set her heart aflutter, Lady Marian stroked her younger cousin's veil-covered long hair and said, “It's all right, Meg. It's been a long and trying week. Susan's already getting your bath ready. You need your rest. I'll join you soon.”

 

“Sir Guy was just being nice to me,” added Meg, wishing she'd let him go when he excused himself instead of dragging him into a situation that could be construed as something other than the innocent meeting it'd been. “You... you've been so busy... lately. I... I only needed someone with whom to talk about Allan...”

 

“I understand. Now off you go. I need to have a word alone with Sir Guy.”

 

Shooting a hesitant look at Sir Guy, the red-haired lady reluctantly left the couple to converse.

 

“I've seen death in the face many times in my life. One might grow impervious to it on the outside but it's never easy, particularly when things are left undone and unsaid, or when you wish some things unsaid and some choices unmade. I just sought to comfort your cousin in her grief; that's the truth. I'm far from perfect, and God knows what's left of my life won't be enough to atone for my sins. But I still have my honour left and have made a pledge for life to protect your gender, even from myself. I'd be desecrating that very oath by doing something so vile as to seduce a young girl when she's at her most vulnerable.”

 

Marian heard the conviction of his arguments in his powerful voice and felt the intensity of his striking blue-grey eyes, burning with righteous indignation. It was the hurt pride she saw reflected in them that convinced her his actions hadn’t been prompted either by lust or greedy ambition.

 

Suddenly filled with shame over the bout of jealousy which had seized her on seeing the knight comforting her young cousin, and unable to hold his gaze any longer, she stretched the pregnant silence by lighting a new candle to the Virgin.

 

He spoke of his sins; but what about hers? While the sheriff’s light was fading with each passing hour, Meg, who saw her as both eldest sister and mother, was being tormented by guilt and had no one to rely upon but her cousin. And yet, Marian had barely spared a thought to Meg’s grief these past few days on the rare occasions when she found herself free from Sir Edward’s demands. Instead her mind had been filled with thoughts of Sir Guy and yearnings that even now made her cheeks blush and her most secret of places palpitate.

 

She had imagined what the warm lips that had brushed her knuckles would feel against her mouth. Probably firm and yet soft, demanding and still worshipful. His strong, long-fingered hands- so much like a musician's- would caress her and cause exquisite tremors of delight run through her virginal flesh.

 

She'd never known what real temptation felt like until him. The urge to succumb and taste the fruit of paradise before walking the desert looming on the horizon was too strong, and for everybody's sake she had to nip it in the bud.“Be that as it may, your actions are doing more harm than good. Stay away from both of us, Sir Guy.”

 

Dismay, confusion and then anger flitted over his expressive and angular features.

 

“As you command, my lady,” he said in a gruff voice.“Although I'll have you know, no matter how reduced my circumstances are at present, my lineage is a proud one. I might be incapacitated but my ailment is temporary; I'd never stoop so low as to use a woman to secure my future. I'm not a green boy; I'm a man who's seen his fair share of life and is far from dead. Of course, I was stirred by your beauty the first time I clapped eyes on you, but it's your boldness and your determination I admire. You're the only one woman who's managed to make me feel after so long. It's you and you alone I'd like to _know._ ”

 

The last word had been murmured by his velvety voice, and yet it reverberated as if he'd shouted it from the castle's rampart for all the world to hear; its meaning unmistakable.

 

The air crackled between them as the gravitational attraction they'd both struggled to resist flared and pushed them into each other's arms. The first onslaught of sensation and need his searing kiss arose in Marian made her head spin and her knees waver. This was what passion and desire felt like; so different from the tame and safe sensations evoked by her teenage infatuation with Robin. She wish she could melt in Sir Guy's arms, be able to put happiness before duty, lock out the world and be with him never to part again.

 

She held onto him as if she were drowning and he were the only thing that could keep her afloat. And suddenly, his kiss changed. It became gentler, tentative and infinitely tender. With reverent patience he coaxed her to part her lips and invite him in.

 

Desire blossomed the moment she acquiesced. Feeling her passionate response and her soft curves now pressed against his powerful frame, Sir Guy lost his battle against restraint; his kisses growing deeper and more demanding, eliciting low moans of pleasure from her sweet virginal mouth.

 

Reality slammed into his mind. She was a maid, a lady, a respectable noblewoman betrothed to another man. He'd claimed within these very same walls, with God as his witness, he'd protect her even from himself. He was ashamed of his own lack of self-control. He, who had learnt to rein in his emotions early in his youth, knowing patience and self-denial would be the only road to regain that which had been taken from him, had shown himself as unworthy of her trust as her attitude had suggested the moment their eyes met in the chapel.

 

Reluctantly, he pulled away from the sweetness of her mouth and the enveloping warmth of her unblemished body, which felt so much like home- the one he'd spent more than half of his life searching for. And with tender wistfulness, he caressed her flushed cheek, holding her gaze with eyes that looked suspiciously glassy.

 

Painful as it was, they both knew it could never be.

 

Tears blurred the heart-wrenching image of his receding back as she touched her slightly swollen lips. During a moment of folly she had let herself go and be selfish if only to taste what passion would feel like in the arms of a man who could cherish her and see her as his equal.

 

She hugged herself feeling suddenly cold and bereft. She needed to be strong for everybody's sake. But oh, how she yearned for the comfort she knew she'd find in his arms!

 

Falling to her knees in front of the Madonna- her tears now running freely down her cheeks- Marian prayed fervently for the strength to do her duty.


End file.
